When Lightning Taught the Lure

3:17AM. The Weather Channel app glared in the dark - 87% chance of thunderstorms by sunrise. My thumb hovered over the screen, torn between prudence and the itch to feel that first tug. Outside, the pre-storm air clung to my skin like wet fishing line.

Lake Kissimmee's boat ramp was deserted. My headlbeam caught pairs of glowing eyes in the reeds - gators or racoons, both equally indifferent to human folly. The first casts with my lucky crankbait produced nothing but algae. Thunder rolled its dice in the distance.

『Should've stayed home』I muttered as raindrops bulleted the water. That's when the submerged cypress stump erupted. My rod tip dove like it owed the lake money. Lightning flashed as the bass breached - jaws gaping, scales catching magnesium-white sparks. We danced our dangerous waltz between thunderclaps, 8-pound test singing through storm-wet fingers.

The release felt ceremonial. As the bass vanished into ink-black water, dawn's first light pierced the clouds. My soaked shirt clung cold, but the memory burned warm - sometimes the best decisions are the ones that scare you twice.