Last summer, we all the family rested in the village with my grandmother. One day my father invited me and my brother to go fishing. Behind the village there is a pond, and all the village boys run there to fish. They told me that there were big black leeches in this pond, and I realized that I would never be able to swim in it, because I’m very afraid of leeches, although I have never seen them.
My brother and I accepted the offer of the pope with enthusiasm. I have never been on a fishing trip, and I was very interested.
The next day early in the morning we came to the pond. I had the smallest rod. My elder brother taught me how to plant a worm, we abandoned fishing rods and waited. The first pecked at the pope, and he pulled the crucian carp. My brother and I looked enviously at the small fish and again patiently stared at the floats.
The second fish was pulled by my brother. He was very happy. Before me, for some reason, it did not reach me. Dad and elder brother dragged carp and red-rippers out of the water, and I just watched them sadly. Finally my float jerked and danced on the water. I yanked and pulled out… a small thin black fish that looked more like a worm. My brother ran up to me and laughed: it turns out I caught a leech for bait!
We freed the hook, planted another worm – and again long minutes of waiting.
During this fishing I caught five leeches. Dad and brother are already tired of laughing and just silently with a smile they took off my hook another victim and threw it into the water. Only at the very end I managed to catch a tiny sandbag with a scuffed side.
Since then I do not really like fishing.