Fishing, Ghoul Style

“Just one more and I’ll have my limit,” old Herb chuckles.

The large pond sitting in the northwest corner of the cemetery is off-limits for fishing. To everyone except Fred that is. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. The spring-fed pond is there, loaded with tasty Largemouth Bass waiting to jump on the surface plug he works through the shallows. Night: the best time to catch them because they hit with abandon, and no one can see him as well.

“If God didn’t want people catching these tasty critters, why did he have someone stock them here?” Fred muttered. “The dead can’t fish, but I certainly can.”

The Ghoul watches with amusement. To him, this man is playing with his food. A cat and mouse kind of game.

He smiles. ‘I suppose that’s what I do now that I eat the flesh of the living,’ he thinks. ‘They suffer; I back off a little; this gives them hope, but as soon as they try to escape their fate, I start slowly feeding on them again, enjoying their pain. I’m a real bastard. Oh, that I am.’

Remorse. He should have some; he has a soul, twisted perhaps, but he has one. Yet all the years of being relegated to the status of a scavenger and bone picker, has made him bitter. God created him as well as these humans but gave them an elevated position.

Many years ago, in what is now Germany, he was doing what was commanded of him when a few grave-robbers happened upon him in the act. He scared the shit out of them, but they returned with a mob, carrying torches, axes, and pitchforks. Yes, he was immortal, but it would still cause him a great deal of pain if they were able to whack off a few body parts. Damn! He didn’t know if he could regenerate new ones. What good was being immortal if he was in pieces? The worst kind of living Hell!

So he vanished off into the night and found a new home, one safe from rabble-rousing villagers bent on his destruction. Now, a few homes later, he finds himself in this decrepit but homey cemetery. As long as he’s careful, no one should be any the wiser to his existence.

This so-called high-tech era doesn’t believe in the actuality of his kind. Monsters. Yeah, merely myths. Nobody in their right mind would accept that gibberish. No pitchforks in this day and age. Nowadays, the one who cried ‘wolf’ would be escorted to the closest looney bin.

A huge splash shatters the quiet and Fred rears back, setting the hooks into a real lunker.

“Hot damn!” he shouts out. “This is a monster!”

The battle between man and fish goes on for quite a while, the Ghoul enjoying the show happening before his eyes almost as much as Fred is in seventh heaven pitting his skills against the great fish. Twice Fred stumbles in the brush bordering this section of the pond, but in the end, he slides his thumb and forefinger into the mouth of the huge Bass and lifts him from the water, getting away from the edge of the water as fast as he can so his prize will not escape him.

“Wow! This is my biggest Bass ever! He must be at least eight pounds. What a night!”

Fred’s exuberance is cut a little short by a horrendous odor drifting down from the cemetery’s edge, causing him to gag, the taste refusing to leave his tongue. He retches on the grass, not at all in control of his faculties. Never before has anything this vile attacked his senses. From sheer euphoria one moment to abject disgust and intestinal pain the next.

“Not a pleasant sight, you rolling around on the grass barfing your guts out.”

Fred looks around him, trying to put person and voice together, but his vision’s blurred and he is having difficulty focusing on much of anything. Something big is here. That and the fact it has an un-Godly stench is foremost in his mind. The big Bass plops around and smashes into his head; he barely takes notice.

“I don’t take too kindly to you reacting to my presence like that,” the Ghoul says. “In fact, you are pissing me off!”

The beast walks down-wind and allows fresh air to move in so Fred can breathe easier. His vision slowly returns and he sees the monster for what it truly is. The long hair over his naked frame makes him appear to be some sort of a huge erect wolf at first, but little by little the creature takes on the form of a man-like entity.

What in the name of all that’s holy is this thing?

“These fish. Are you going to eat them?” the monster asks. “You were going through a lot of work to get them out of the water, but you seemed to be having fun.”

Fred is in too much shock to utter a word. He stares at the demon, wondering what it’s up to, afraid to move. Whatever it is, it can talk.

“I can tell you’re not going to answer me, so I will tell you what I think. You enjoy capturing these fish, even though the poor things must be in pain. To you, it is sport, a game. You inflict pain and eat your prize catch.”

Fred can merely nod his head and watches in disbelief and horror as this monstrosity reaches down and picks up the fish. Holding it by its eyes, he slowly tears the meat off it, leaving only the tail and head. Then, with a huge guffaw, it snaps the head from the backbone and devours that as well.

“Is this the way you do it, or do you apply heat to it like your kind does and cook it? Yes, that’s what you do. A real man would eat these things the way I do. But you’re not a real man, are you? You grovel at my feet, too scared to say a word, your clothes soiled by the release of your excrement. Poor baby. Did the big bad Ghoul scare you?”

Reaching down to check, Fred discovers the demon is right. He is covered in shit and piss. Of what matter is that now, though? He has to get the hell out of here, away from this beast; he must warn the townspeople. Yet, will they believe him? Will they come back and destroy this thing?

“Oh, you are not thinking good thoughts, are you, Fred? Yes, I know your name. What you view as unkempt body hair are actually sensors… receptors that touch your mind, relaying your thoughts to me. And your impractical decision to flee is not going to work. See, if you escape, more of your kind will come to try to kill me. I wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“I won’t tell anyone anything!” Fred is finally able to say. “I promise.”

Laughing, the Ghoul says, “Sorry, Fred, I do not trust you. And besides, just as the fish were to be your meal, you are to be mine. Ah, you think it incomprehensible that I would devour you, but you took no pity on the fish. Why should I take pity on you?”

Fred pleads with his eyes, but the monster picks him up and carries him to the edge of the pond. Staring at him as he does it, the Ghoul takes the plug on the end of the line, jams it into Fred’s mouth, and rears back to set the hooks.

A wail of pain escapes his lips as blood pours out of his mouth and down his cheeks. The delighted fiend laps it up before tossing Fred into the pond.

The beast picks up the pole and hollers to Fred, “I’m giving you the same chance you gave those fish. Fight for your life, damn it!”

He reaches to his mouth to get the hooks out but only manages to get his hands caught on them as well, the Ghoul jerking back on the rod just as Fred has hold of the plug. Secured the way he is now, it is impossible for him to put up much resistance and the heavy line he has on his reel is sufficient to hold him.

The demon reels him up to shore and kicks him back again. “C’mon! That fish put up a better fight than you. This is your last chance.”

Once more, Fred is easily brought to shore. The monster tears the plug out of Fred’s mouth, leaving chunks of flesh on the hooks, and throws him onto the grass, quickly lapping up the poor fisherman’s blood and feasting on the rest of his face.

In unbelievable pain, Fred is powerless to resist and has no will to do so, almost asking for the end to come, but his demise will not be quick. The Ghoul removes his clothing as he feeds, eating those areas which will not cause him to die first, enjoying the struggle, albeit a feeble one from this weakling.

The point is reached where not enough blood is left in Fred’s body to keep him alive, and the demon tears his heart out from his chest and swallows it whole. Feasting on his warm dinner with calm deliberation, the Ghoul soon leaves nothing but bone.

Once the skeletal remains are buried in the fresh dirt of a recently dug grave, he returns to the pond and eats the other fish.

“These really are good. Not as tasty as humans, but they make a fine dessert.”

He looks at the fishing rod and picks it up.

“If Fred could catch these fish, simpleton that he was, I can do it.”

On his third cast a Bass hits, and the Ghoul brings him into shore. No catch and release for the big guy. He eats it while the plug is still in its mouth. This is almost too easy. Though these fellas are good eating, Fred was the catch of the day.

~ Blaze McRob

© Copyright 2014 Blaze McRob. All Rights Reserved

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About blazemcrob

Horror writer Blaze McRob Blaze McRob, writer of over seventy legacy published horror novels. I was a ghostwriter long before anyone had an idea we were lurking about. Through my adventures in the craft, I-or my author alter egos-have won virtually every award to be won. But awards mean little, don't they? It is the reader we wish to enthrall, and our souls to purge. So now it is time for Blaze to write as Blaze, and time for previous recipients of my tales to write more of their own material. In addition to my dark novels, I write horror shorts, flash fiction, and poetry. Ah, the sweet rhymes of iambic pentameter intermixed with glorious free-style. I am single and have eight children, my youngest only three years old. They are my life and the reason I fight the demons and the pain. blazemcrob.com

38 responses to “Fishing, Ghoul Style”

  1. AR Neal says :

    Thumbs up from this Ghoul fan 🙂

    Like

  2. moondustwriter says :

    You never cease to amaze with your angling acuity. Your words slide off the bone in a substantive feast of horror. And I hear a book is just about ready for the main course. Hmm mighty fine indeed. I do like mine cooked.

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      I love your poetic prose in describing my tale, Leslie. I’m not much for raw fish myself, but my Ghoul on the other hand . . .

      Main courses abound off the bow of SS Blaze. 🙂

      Blaze

      Like

  3. moondustwriter says :

    Reblogged this on Moondustwriter's Blog and commented:
    Fishing horror style.

    Like

  4. Hunter Shea says :

    Here’sm a scary synchroniocity. I was just at a cemetery the other day, my daughter and I marveling at the size of the fish in the big pond and wondering if anyone ever dropped a line in there to pluck them out. And then I read this. Crazy. Great story. I love the Ghoul. I demand more!

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      I used to fish in cemetery ponds at night, Hunter. Under cover of darkness, of course. I caught some mighty big Bass. There was always something wonderful about trying to hide from the cops and enjoying the ambiance of my my surroundings. Took my angling to a whole new level.

      Glad you like my Ghoulish tale. More to come!

      Blaze

      Like

  5. Craig McGray says :

    Reblogged this on From Bright Minds Come Dark Things and commented:
    This story is definitely the catch of the day!

    Like

  6. ranu802 says :

    I love this story, there must be a lesson to go with this story, I wonder what it is.

    Like

  7. Thomas Brown says :

    I feel like these Ghoul-tales would make excellent serials in a comic book/graphic novel form, Blaze!

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      Thank you, Thomas! I think you might be on to something! Short stories like this lend themselves well to comic books/graphic novels. Now you have the cogs turning in my head. 😀

      Blaze

      Like

  8. Gloria says :

    Reblogged this on Glor's World and commented:
    Great story by Blaze McRob.

    Like

  9. Nina D'Arcangela says :

    Hmmm… something fishy here, Blaze! lol – Another Ghoul tale to inspire all those who hunt for their dinner at night! How old is your Ghoul? He speaks of townfolk and pitchforks – and continually eludes to ‘relocating’ to his current digs. Where be this beastie from??? Fun spin, Blaze – our Ghoul on Fire! 😀

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      Ah, Nina, I can’t let the Ghoul out of the bag, so to speak. Think of timeless, present before the coming of humans. Flaming Ghouls are the best kind, my friend. Thank you for your kind words. 🙂

      Blaze

      Like

  10. Magenta Nero says :

    awesome tale Blaze, lots of ghoulish fun, I enjoyed it very much. 🙂

    Like

  11. jonolsonauthor says :

    Reblogged this on and commented:
    FISHING GHOUL STYLE by Pen of the Damned’s Blaze McRob

    Like

  12. christopherliccardi says :

    Reblogged this on C.A.Liccardi Author and commented:
    Things that go “bump” in the night can’t hold a candle to this one!

    Like

  13. christopherliccardi says :

    Blaze
    This one was so good, I had to read it twice!

    Well done.!

    Like

  14. jonolsonauthor says :

    Blaze, my friend, this was a deliciously fun read! I love your ghoul tales and I’m glad you’ve been keeping them coming!

    Like

  15. Joseph Pinto says :

    Many apologies for my late comment, Blaze, my schedule has been completely out of whack…but on to the good stuff, and what can be better than FISHING, GHOUL STYLE!!?? 🙂 It’s interesting that you made a comment to Thom that this story, and stories like this in general, could lend itself to a comic book/graphic novel type of style – that is precisely the imagery I had in my head as I read this. Greatly enjoyed as usual, my friend; viva la Ghoul!!! 😉

    Like

    • blazemcrob says :

      Thank you, Joseph. Glad you like my Ghoul. 🙂 Yes, after Thom made that statement, I’m seriously thinking of making this series a comic/graphic novel project. This can go so many ways and last a while.

      Viva la Ghoul!

      Blaze

      Like

  16. Tyr Kieran says :

    I can’t believe I missed reading this gem until now. Forgive me, Blaze! I always enjoy a Ghoul adventure!!! Loved the carnage and the dark justice! Keep ’em coming!

    Like

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