BELIEVE IN GHOSTS
be·lieve \bə-ˈlēv\ • \ˈin, ən, ən\ • ghosts\ˈgōsts\
It’s simple. Ghosts are the fish that you hear stories about at night around the campfire. The ones that we have seen rise out of the weeds only to disappear and leave us with that 1,000-mile stare and words that are not appropriate to type on websites dribbling out of your mouth. The ones that make your heart stop and pound out of your chest in a matter of seconds. The ones that show you just enough before they come unpinned at the boat. The ones that give you goosebumps on a 90-degree day and make you sweat at night while lying in bed. The Smallmouth you tell people would have been near eight when in your heart you think it was more than nine, but you don’t want to sound insane. The reason we cast until will can’t, break through ice on a sub-zero morning or bake in the July sun for hours on end. The reason we drive hundreds of miles for nothing more than a chance and leave promising to come back no matter the outcome.