Gone Fishing On Boety Bay Near Andrews, South Carolina – Short Story
Mist wreathed the cypress knees of Boety Bay like ghostly scarves as Sam eased his old skiff across the glassy water. Dawn’s blush barely kissed the horizon, painting the gnarled oaks a dusky pink. An osprey screeched from its high perch, echoing in the stillness. Sam took a long, salty breath, feeling the familiar ache-tingle …