Fiction - Page 5

Zóra Luca Tulik

One dark stormy night, an tall old man arrived, at a little ruined pub by the name of Trout Fishing in America located near a remote village the name of which has long been forgotten. The pub had only a few guests, an errant man who carried a dirty bag and a cat with only one eye, and four young knights who were on their way home but just stayed because of the night. The old man was hungry and tired, but he didn’t have enough money. Hearing this, the honorable knights decided to invite the old man for dinner in exchange for hearing a lovely story.

“Long ago,” the grey-bearded man said, “the villagers started to notice that every second day of the month a billy goat disappeared and a day later his skin showed  up on the mayor’s door. First they thought it was a freebooter who was angry with the mayor, but after the mayor died of old age, the disappearances kept on going. The old hunters said a huge monster who lived at the top of the hill was the one who ate the goats. On one of their hunting trips they saw it was three metres tall, it had arms and wings so long that it pulled them after itself when walking. It had claws and horns, and it wore a wolf fur coat whenever it went to the village. The youngest and bravest son of the mayor decided to go to the top of the hill to kill the monster once and for all, but he never made it back. His mother found his skin spread over his bed the following morning. To this day on stormy nights, as it is tonight, you can hear screams, though no one knows who is screaming.”

A long silence followed the words of the man, the faces of the knights anxious as if waiting to hear a scream. After a  few minutes the young knights burst out laughing at his story.

“This is like a fish-wives tale my nanny used to scare me with.” the youngest knight said.

“Well the fish-wives in the village certainly believe the story. Even my mother would never let me go to the hill as a kid, and mind you well, my mother is a brave soul,” the old man said solemnly with a smile.

“Very well, old man,” the young knight said with a grin, “we’ve heard your story, but we have a long journey to our homes in the castle and an early morning to wake up. Let’s go to sleep.” They all walked up the stairs, each to his own room.

At night the guards of the village heard the screams, as was usual on the stormy nights, and one of them swore he had seen a tall old man go along the river towards the hill, wrapped in a coat made of wolf fur. His arms almost touched the ground and he was dragging something shiny that looked like armour. No one took the guard seriously, as he was the mayor’s grandson and for years had drunk a few gallons of wine every evening, because he didn’t want to have nightmares where the monster visited him.

In the morning the owner of the pub was waiting patiently for his guests to come down, but when the maid came to change the beds, he was forced to go upstairs. He opened the old man’s door, but no one was inside, and the bed was untouched, as if he had never been there. He went to wake up the knights. As he opened the door he recognized with horror that all that was left of the knights was their skin laid out on the beds, and all their shiny armour was missing….

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Odett Tajti

He grabbed his jacket and left the silent house. It was early in the morning, the grass was wet  and the temperature was near zero. Tom opened the car door and let the aging dog, Rosy, jump into the backseat of the blue wrecked/damaged car, and they took off. During the drive Rosy was sleeping calmly and the radio was playing some old songs quietly. Tom was watching the beautiful Sun rise, which covered the sky with pale yellow, blue and warm rose gold colours.

The car stopped on a dirt road next to a wet field, which led to a big thick forest. Tom put the leash on the dog, and they started going towards the trees. They finally got into the forest, but by that time Tom’s boots were completely soppy. The boy and the doggy started walking. Tom had wanted to come here, because he was so tired and wanted to get away from the city and people for a while. They were walking slowly because the ground was pretty slippery. Some moments later they stopped because they heard a loud noise. They both got scared. Tom took a step closer to a  massive tree. Suddenly  there was a giant whoop. Rosy barked and she somehow ran away. Tom tried to reach her but he couldn’t. He began walking in the direction where the dog had gone. He was shouting her name, hoping that she would come back. After a while he stopped and closed his eyes to think about his situation. Then he heard a bark. He opened his eyes but  didn’t see anything. He turned  around and saw an old man. The man was short and was wearing dark green plastic boots and a strange red hat.

“Who are you?” asked the man in a mysterious, but friendly tone.

“My name is Tom,” answered the boy in hesitation

“Good. I am Trout Fishing In America. And what are you doing here kid?”

“My dog ran away and I’m looking for her.”

“Oh I see. May I help you…” The old Man looked around and started thinking.

“Hmm.. Where should we start? Where?”

“Follow me!”

The old Man started going straight into the middle of the forest, and Tom followed him.

After about twenty minutes of walking, they reached a glade, and there was a little stream. In the water the boy saw big dark rocks and some fish, which were trout. While he was looking around, he suddenly saw Rosy, who was playfully attacking the trout. The dog looked happy and energetic and she seemed much younger than an hour before. The boy was so glad that he had found Rosy. He turned towards the old Man to say thanks to him, but somehow Trout Fishing In America had disappeared.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Lotti Tajti

Once upon the time an angler went to the market to find a good bait for fishing trout.

He was there for a long time, but after three hours of searching he found the perfect bait. It was a part of a plant; the seller said that trout really liked it. The angler thought, “I still have a lot of time, so I will go to the docks to try this new bait out.”

He sat into a boat and left the shore thirty meters behind him. He let the fish-hook into the water. He spent many hours in the boat, but he didn’t manage to entrap any fish. He pulled up the hook, and in anger he threw the bait into the water and went home.

A few months later the fish started to disappear. The anglers were upset and called the harbour controller, who looked for a few divers and told them: “Go down and alert me if you find something!”

They swam down. After a while one of them came up and said: We have found something. “What did you find?” asked the controller.

“I don’t know exactly, but it looks like a plant with two huge fishnets and in those there are hundreds of fish.”

Everybody, who heard this was shocked. A plant with huge fishnets! The diver brought up the nets with the fish; they were taken to market, and then the nets were brought back. After a period of time they were filled again.
The plant was named “trout fishing in America,” and furthermore, it is used for fishing trout.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Hédi Szabó

The sunshine was lighting up the whole coffee shop. Delightful weather like this brings an awesome mood to everyone. This morning, our coffee shop was completely full of people who just wanted to enjoy what a lovely time we were having. Everyone was sitting outside the cafe bar. We had a busy morning. Just brew and brew the dark caffeine-full drink, we haven’t got a calm three minutes. But of course this is what we love the most. For a minute I just thought about how I’m living the life that I’ve always imagined for myself. I was deep in my thoughts when suddenly I realized somebody had come up to the counter. For a moment I felt a bit embarrassed, because I didn’t know how long she had been waiting for me. With a smile, I asked what she wanted to drink. She told me she wanted to order a drink which was suitable for “trout fishing in America.” At first, I thought I had heard it incorrectly. But she repeated it. I started to panic a little because I started to overthink it. Is this a phrase that I don’t know? Is she kidding me? Is she just bad at English? Everyone could have easily said about me that I was really confused. So fortunately, she quickly explained it to me. Trout fishing in America is a feeling you get when you are happy for no reason. Nothing special has happened to you, you just have the feeling your life is good the way it is. You can literally smile because you are satisfied with things around you at the moment you are in.  After that guest, my life changed, to put it bluntly. Every time I feel unreasonably happy, I say I’m feeling “trout fishing in America.” I wish for everyone to feel “trout fishing in America” more often.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Mirtill Ondok

Today I walked to the store to get the newest trout fishing in America. It was a must, everyone had it. The way the material shone as the sunshine met the glittery pattern was breathtaking. I thought it’d look so good on me. As I walked into the store, there was silence. I found it weird because trout fishing in America was only sold in this store and everyone was trying to buy it. I took a turn to the right, and there it was; a labyrinth with a sign that said “trout fishing in America” with an arrow that pointed right into the labyrinth. As I passed the entrance of the labyrinth I was in a galaxy-themed room, and to get to the other side of the room, I had to jump on planets. They were far away from each other, so as I jumped on Neptune, I had to slow down a bit because I was exhausted. I finally made it to the next room, which was a field full of animals. I tried to pass by but couldn’t; it was too crowded. A cow came to me and handed me a pack of food. I threw the food so far away that every animal in the room disappeared, as they were running in the same direction as the nutriment. The field became empty and I could easily cross it. At the end of it, there was no sunshine and no planets, but most importantly no trout fishing in America. I found myself on the street again. I realized it was just a dream, but when I woke up to the sound of my alarm, it was painful. It was painful because I really wanted that trout fishing in America. I went downstairs and my mum gave me a pretty box with a big bow on it. I opened the gift and there was a card that said “Happy birthday!” and under the card hid my trout fishing in America, just as I had imagined.  

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Emese Kassai

It was a normal, almost boring day at school. The weather was cloudy and rainy, which gave a spleenful feeling to the students.

If I remember correctly, it started in biology class. The girl sitting next to me was texting someone when she put her hand before her mouth in surprise. And I, being the curious teenager I am, peeked at her phone, and almost exclaimed! She and I looked at each other, then we started whispering, distributing the information. Soon the whole classroom was buzzing. After the bell rang, everyone ran to tell their friends the news. That way, almost the whole school, and even most of the city, knew it by the afternoon. I could hear every people whispering:

Trout fishing in America??! With HIM?

What does that even mean?

Ah, you know…Trout fishing…in America…You know..

Who is He?

Why is this relevant?

It must have been a nice trout fishing in America…

Who told you this?

Who is She?

When did this happen?

I would love to go trout fishing in America too….

REALLY? They didn’t even invite me?

Well, good for them I guess….

Ah, I’m also very good at trout fishing in America … At least that’s what people tell me….

Oh my God! I have heard about it, I would like to try that too!

Oh, come on, it’s the eighth time I’ve heard it today, I DON’T CARE!

And it kept getting more interesting. Everyone had a theory about what that phrase stood for, but no one knew for sure. The information became a whole story, which was different to everyone. Even I didn’t understand it fully. To this day it remains a mystery that cannot be solved.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Janka Jónás

When American scientists were studying the ancient Greek Olympic games, they found a new game they didn’t know. They called it “Trout fishing ín America.” They found a description of the rules. What is more, they found a painting that showed people playing Trout fishing in America. Trout fishing in America is a race that took place one a year in springtime when it rained a lot and there were a lot of naked snails in the fields. The sportsmen had to carry a big jar, in which they collected as many snails as they could. While they were looking for them, they had to hop on one foot. In the Trout fishing in America, they had one hour to collect the snails, and the winner was the man who collected the most. The purpose of the Trout fishing in America was to clean the fields, because the snails ate their plants. Nowadays the Trout fishing in America has become a popular sport throughout the whole World, because people want to get rid of snails, because they are very harmful… ~NEWS~ We have just heard that the Trout fishing in America will take a place at the next Olympic Games.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Zalán Galics

One day I was out with my friends in the park, and we had a great time together. We were talking, laughing, sharing stories with each other. But I saw a bush with weird little berries on it. I asked one of my friends, Anna, if she knew what kind of fruit it was, and she said it was a trout fishing in america bush. Anna is from India, so she introduced me to the fruit. It turned out to be a traditional Indian fruit. Basically trout fishing in America is a little red berry that kinda looks like a redcurrant, so when I was about to taste it, I was expecting a sweet flavour. But it was so sour that I had to spit it out. And that was the point when the accident happened. I spit the trout fishing in America onto Anna’s white t-shirt. Everyone was shocked when they saw her t-shirt dripping with trout fishing in america, except  Anna herself. She said that it’s kinda abstract and it suits her personality well, so since that incident Anna has worn her abstract t-shirt with pride almost every day.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Hanna Faragó

It was a very beautiful, sunny and warm summer day. I was bored, so I decided to Trout fishing in America something. I started to think, because I had no idea what to Trout fishing in America. Than I looked out of my window and saw that the sky was very gorgeous because of the sunset, so I started to Trout fishing in America the sky. It took so long, because the sky started to change and the clouds slowly disappeared, so I had to start my Trout fishing in America over and over again. A few hours later I finished my Trout fishing in America, and I was really happy, because it turned out very beautiful. I was so proud of myself; after I finished it I showed my Trout fishing in America to my family, and they were proud of me too. But next time I’m going to Trout fishing in America something easier.

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.

Emília Lilla Détár

The Trout fishing in America driver was sitting in his car. Waiting patiently for the girl who had called him. All of a sudden a young woman opened the door of the Trout fishing in America and sat in the middle seat. She was on her phone, gossiping with one of her friends. Or at least, that’s what the Trout fishing in America driver thought. It was late at night, he was tired, and all he wanted to do was go home. He had had the most annoying clients that day.

“Linda Clifford?” the Trout fishing in America driver asked. No answer. She was too busy chatting about some girl with her friend.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me your name, because I’m waiting for Linda Clifford.” Still no answer. He started getting angry.

“Why aren’t you driving?” the girl finally spoke.

“But where?” The Trout fishing in America driver was confused.

“What do you mean, where? Take me home!”

Now he felt more confused. How was he supposed to know where this girl lived?

Okay, he thought. She was so arrogant with him, he thought he could teach her a lesson. He started to drive. The whole way she was still talking with her friend on the phone. All of sudden the Trout fishing in America driver stopped the car.

“I’m sorry, but where are we?” said the girl, as she finally hung up the phone.

“You said to drive home. I live across the street. Please leave the money on the front seat. Good night.”

Note from the editor: This is one of twelve pieces in the Spring 2022 issue of Folyosó that play with the concept of Richard Brautigan’s Trout Fishing in America.