I started talking about our boss and how I was going to be working with him the next week. Rick gave in and said, "Find the graveyard in town, by the river. Go through the graveyard toward the river. Find the compost pile where the groundskeeper puts all the grass and leaves. Then go straight down the hill and that's the spot".
I have to admit that I felt kind of weird getting my fishing stuff out of my truck while people were getting flowers out of their vehicles. It was a misty day in late October. I had two dozen fathead minnows and two hours of light left to fish. Right away I started catching smallmouth bass. I caught four bass that were about four pounds apiece.
When it started to get dark I kept hearing noises up the hill and it seemed like someone was watching me. The wind picked up and started making the trees sway and made some real weird noises, so I got out of there. I only had two minnows left anyway. I started up the hill with all my stuff, trying to do it all in one trip. I was just about to the top and something caught my jacket, springing me back down the hill and almost into the river. Looking down, I saw what was left of my rod and minnow bucket. I then charged that hill like I was climbing Mt. Everest, not even thinking about looking back. I got into my truck and I was gone, my headlights lighting up the tombstones as I followed the winding trail out of there. Thinking my new work jacket was ripped from the branch that caught me, I turned on the domelight to look. Not a scratch on it, so I still don't know what pulled me back down that hill. Rick must have been out there after dark too because he never wanted to go back in there again, at least not alone. I bet I caught about 20 bass that night, but in my book it's a better daytime spot than night, if you know what I mean ...
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