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Heretical Fishing - Prologue
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... out of my car and took in the old wooden pier before me.
A barrage of sensations hit.
The sounds of small waves crashing, the cool breeze ruffling my hair, the warm feel of the mid-morning sun kissing my skin, and the distinctive smell of salt-spray whipped up by the wind.
I had brought everything needed; a fishing rod with line, a tackle box containing a myriad of different hooks, sinkers, and swivels, pliers, several leaders, a handful of other tools, and finally, an i ...
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