Occams Razor

Silence, well honestly as Whisper Hill gets in the early morning. The peepers get in their last croaks before cool weather, a solitary loon echoes across the misty waters hidden but not unheard, and a single solitary plop hits the water emanating from a fishing rod held by the radio guy fresh off his shift.

A tiny plastic frog sits underneath an overhanging tree parallel to the shoreline. Sitting perfectly still, except for a few quick jerks every minute or so. Brett's lure doing the wounded frog impression usually works, but today its been rejected. However a hot cup of coffee in a thermos and the serenity of the early morning somehow make it all OK. A little piece of serenity in this catastrophic little epicenter of trouble.

Not bad at all...

Recent sleepless nights spent tossing and turning in his bed finally drove Madrigus out of his bed shortly after dawn. Dragging on his jeans and only half- buttoning a dirty, rumpled shirt he pulls a single card from his deck and examines it briefly before tucking it away and leaving, giant tome tucked under a blanket under his arm.

Meandering and deeply considering his draw, The Drowned Man, the demon can be heard by Brett as he stumbles through brush and fallen branches to the lake. He stopped at the water's edge, took a deep breath, then turned to face Brett.

"I knew you'd be here," he called softly as he approached. His eyes flick from Brett to the water. "Catch anything yet?"

The spell of the morning broken by Madrigus' trudging down to the shore Brett's eyes dart to the newcomer before relaxing. Paranoia was a specialty here, but it also led to a few dozen mini heart attacks a week. He smiled reeling in and cleaning the weeds off of his lure.

"Nothing yet, little bastards are wise to the frog I think. Might switch to a grub and cast out to see what's lurking at the bottom. Just finished the show about an hour ago and I couldn't sleep. How've you been? I'd offer you some coffee but I uhhhh, already took a sip sorry."