Sleeping
with
Sharks!
By
Pamela
Ebel
Sheepshead Island, California
July, 2005
“Alright everyone,
quiet down. We have one more storyteller to hear
from. Maggie Bodean, welcome to the 45th Annual Sheepshead Island
Deep Sea Fishing Rodeo. You all know Maggie’s uncle was Tommie ‘Tank’ Bodean.
He passed away a few months ago and left her his fishing camp. Maggie, we are
really pleased you joined us today and we want to hear your fish tale entry for
the ‘Liars’ Contest’. Jack Casper smiled at Maggie and handed her the
microphone.
“Thanks Mr.
Casper and thanks to all of you for the warm welcome. I
spent every summer from the time I was six to seventeen at Uncle Tank’s camp.
I’ve been busy cleaning it up which, if you knew Uncle Tank, you would know is
a serious challenge.”
Lots of laughter followed.
“I wanted to be here to honor him as a founder who never missed a
rodeo in 44 years. More importantly, he was a frequent winner of the ‘Liars’
Contest’ and while cleaning out his desk I found a letter he left me. He asked
me to read it at the next ‘Liar’s Contest’ after he was gone. So, here it goes,
in Uncle Tank’s own words:
‘I
want to thank my niece Maggie for agreeing to do this last favor
for me. You all know the Legend of Big White. The story goes that the Great
White Shark got separated from his school during a migration down to Mexico.
Bad weather drove him into Shark Fin Cove and he took up residence there. Those
of us who grew up on the island know that many people were supposed to have
tried to catch Big White and disappeared without a trace. And most of the
islanders just say that the shark doesn’t exist except in the over-active and
booze-filled imaginations of the local fishermen.”
More laughter
and raised beer cans in response to this.
‘Well friends,
I am going to share a story with you because I
didn’t want to leave without clearing up two mysteries. First, remember back in
1985 when Carl Magnus went missing? There were rumors that he might have left
the country because the Feds were investigating him for money laundering. That
might have been true, but it wasn’t what caused Magnus to disappear. No, he
disappeared because of his love of ‘dirty laundry’. See, Carl was quite the
‘Ladies Man’. He’d have affairs with the wives of prominent men and then
blackmail them for his silence. One of those husbands got in a fight with
Magnus, hit him with a baseball bat and killed him.’
The crowd was completely silent and leaning toward the stage as
Maggie looked out at them.
‘That husband was a longtime friend of mine, and came to my camp
that night with Magnus’ body in his car trunk asking for help. I never cared
for Magnus and didn’t think anyone else did either. I waited to midnight, then
took Magnus to my boat, Ole Snake Eyes, and cruised to Shark Fin Cove. I put
two life jackets on the body so it would float on top of the water like a large
fish, wrapped a rope around it and hooked a Tarpon Fishing Spoon to it.
I lowered Magnus into the water and watched
him float out behind
the boat. Then I started trolling slowly and chumming the water with dead fish
parts and blood and waited. Soon I saw a large fin appear and circle the boat
slowly. Then the fin got close to the wheelhouse and a head rose to the
surface. Finally, I was eye to eye with Big White. He swam around Ole Snake
Eyes again, slowing to look at me. He was huge, about 17 feet long and several
hundred pounds.
He
disappeared briefly and I was afraid he might hit the boat. All
of a sudden, I saw the fin move back and then Big White rose up behind Magnus’s
body. His huge mouth opened, and his teeth sparkled in the moonlight. Then he
picked up speed. In two quick bites Carl Magnus disappeared forever. The only
thing left was the Pet Spoon dangling from the rope. I watched Big White circle
the boat once more and eye me, then he sank back into the water.
I
waited a while then went back to my camp. I never saw the husband
again and never shared the story until now since everyone concerned has moved
on. I went back to Shark Fin Cove a few times later. I’d see the fin once in a
while, but Big White never surfaced. I decided his purpose was to dispose of
all the bad things in life. The second mystery I wanted to clear up, is that
Big White is not a legend. He exists and I wanted you to know how to get rid of
a bad situation once and for all.’”
Maggie folded the
letter and placed it in her pocket and looked out
at the crowd. There were a few minutes of silence and then the laughing and
clapping began. Mr. Casper announced that Tank Bodean had won the ‘Liars’
Contest’ in absentia.
Taking the trophy,
Maggie walked to the dock and boarded Ole Snake
Eyes. Thirty minutes later she cruised into Shark Fin Cove, set the engine on
idle and listened to the radio news that convicted serial killer Tipp Torres
remained on the run after escaping from a van taking prisoners for medical treatment.
Authorities had been looking in the Sheepshead Island area where Torres grew
up, but hadn’t found him yet. Maggie, however, knew just where Torres could be
found. A half mile from Uncle Tank’s camp was an abandoned fort where all of
the island children played growing up.
Now she opened the
tarp lying at her feet. Tipp Torres stared back
at her with a shocked look. She was grimly satisfied that the last thing he saw
before her bullet landed right between his eyes was the face of his sixth
victim, her twin sister, Lily.
She took Uncle Tank’s
letter out of her pocket and placed it in
Torres’ mouth and lowered his body, with the two life jackets firmly in place,
into the water and secured the Tarpon Spoon to the rope. She watched as the
body floated silently out behind the boat.
Grabbing the bucket of fish guts, parts and blood Maggie chummed the
water as she started trolling slowly.
After thirty minutes
a huge fin appeared and circled the boat once.
Then near the wheelhouse the huge head rose out of the water and Big White
smiled a toothy grin at Maggie, drifted back and lined up behind Torres’ body.
He picked up speed as his giant mouth opened.
Later, as
she pulled the fishing spoon and rope in, Maggie looked
at the moon and smiled.
“Thanks for sharing
the Legend of Big White, Uncle Tank. Sometimes
the only revenge to be had when bad things happen is ‘Sleeping with
Sharks."
Pamela Ebel has been
published in Shotgun Honey, The BOULD AWARDS 2020 Anthology, as well
other venues. Her poetry has appeared in the Delta Poetry Review.
A native of California, she now concentrates on tales from her original home
state and tales from the highways of the South. She also knows, like the
Ancient Greeks and the Irish, that as a southern writer you can’t outrun your
blood.
She has turned to writing
full time as of 2020, obviously either perfect or bizarre timing, and this will
be her fifth career. She lives in Metairie, Louisiana, with her husband and two
cats.
Hillary
Lyon is an illustrator for horror/sci-fi and pulp fiction websites and magazines.
She is also founder and senior editor for the independent poetry publisher, Subsynchronous
Press. An SFPA Rhysling Award nominated poet, her poems have appeared in journals
such as Eternal Haunted Summer, Jellyfish Whispers, Scfifaikuest, Illya’s
Honey, and Red River Review, as well as numerous
anthologies. Her short stories have appeared recently in Night to
Dawn, Yellow Mama, Black Petals, Sirens Call, and Tales from
the Moonlit Path, among others, as well as in numerous horror anthologies such
as Night in New Orleans: Bizarre Beats from the Big Easy, Thuggish
Itch: Viva Las Vegas, and White Noise & Ouija Boards. She
appeared, briefly, as the uncredited "all-American Mom with baby" in Purple Cactus
Media’s 2007 Arizona indie-film, "Vote for Zombie." Having lived in France,
Brazil, Canada, and several states in the US, she now resides in southern
Arizona. https://hillarylyon.wordpress.com/
