Sometimes I'm too imaginative for my own good. I really mean that.
Take today, for instance. Beautiful weather: sunny, no wind and calm seas. Perfect for kayaking. So off we went, paddling through glassy water out beyond the rocks. It was deeper there, but still calm enough to see WHAT WAS BELOW.
Sea monsters, giant water snakes, hideous creatures of The Deep, barnacle-encrusted skeletons. A dinosaur reared an ugly head just above the waves, fossilized for eternity, a snarl clearly visible on its face. We steered clear as my heart began to beat faster. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder until it was out of sight...
Unseen fingers clutched fruitlessly at the fishing lure trailing hopefully behind, the line slipping through them with barely a hesitation. Until the rod jerked, struggling against the hands deep below, attempting to drag it - and us - below the surface.
We fought, of course, the rod bending so far I feared it might snap. Slowly, carefully, patiently we reeled the line in, bringing the lure closer and closer to the kayak. We had caught A Fish. (In previous expeditions - in fact, almost in the same place - a fish named Rock put up a tremendous fight. It fought for an hour, pulling the kayak first one way, then the other, until the kayak gave up and left the (fish named) Rock on the seabed where it belonged. But this was a real fish.)
He was indeed a monster. Not quite of Jonah proportions, but with a face of nightmares. And a weight of 4lb 7oz. (That's over 2 kilograms for the metrically inclined.)