When Catfish Dance Under Fireflies

Midnight's humidity clung to my skin like wet silk as the jonboat drifted past cypress knees. I was testing new glow-in-the-dark weights for channel cats when the first firefly battalion appeared. Their green pulses mirrored the LED lights on my rods – nature's synchronised swimming show.

『Think they're laughing at my chicken liver bait?』I muttered to the thermos of cold brew coffee. The third cast landed with a satisfying plop near submerged logs. Waiting. Always the waiting. Then – a nibble like someone tapping Morse code on my soul.

Sudden drag scream shattered the swamp's lullaby. The rod bent double as something primeval surged toward deep channels.『Not today, old friend,』I growled, thumb pressing the spool. For twenty breathless minutes, we danced – his tailwhips stirring bioluminescent algae into liquid stars.

At dawn's first blush, I cradled the 28-inch warrior, his whiskers tickling my wrist.『Save some magic for next time,』I whispered, watching him vanish into coffee-colored water. The weight glowed faintly in my palm – or was that firefly dust?