The man saw the line running from the reel. He said a very rude word. What did he want with a fish? Perhaps if he just left it alone it would free itself. He let the fish take all the line it wanted and hoped it would snag itself on a rock. As long as the man did not have to look at it for he knew it would be in pain. Every now and again he wound the line it just far enough to feel whether or not the fish was still on the  line. It was. The day wore on and Mother Fish wondered why. First Father and Second Father Fishes had been taken into the Great Unknown quickly. She stayed caught between the sea and whatever it was which lay Beyond. The day turned into an agony for both the man and for Mother Fish. The man took a knife and cut the line for his need for a quiet life  was  greater than his need for a length of fishing line. After all, who needs a silly, suicidal fish? Mother Fish  swam round and round, hook  in  her mouth and trailing a length of nylon line. The line tangled around her tail. The hook made eating difficult. The fishlings watched her die slowly before their very eyes and they learned a lesson. Few  men  bother come to the beach now. It is known as a poor spot for fishing. No-one seems to know why. In the water the fishlings grow and increase in number. Each generation tells the next the story of the Mother Fish who bit upon  the silver spangling key and of her dreams of joining the Father Fishes. One day the fishermen will return.

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