Cray-fish party from scratch

The torches in A's and my hands were the only lights we had. The sound of rattling leaves and rubber boots cracking branches, the only sounds. Remnants of our previous pre-dinner glasses of wine and crackers looked up at me from the ground as we approached the water. The water, absolutely still and as black as the August night sky above us. The area still smelled of our fishing adventure earlier that evening and tiny blood stains from the enormous pike and the other fish had painted the rocks underneath us.


The noises from a conversation in mixed English accents from behind us told us that the others were arriving, too. Their beaming flashlight made me not see anything for a second, and I felt happy that I knew who they were. I felt safe under the starry sky. Safe and excited.

"OK. Let's go. Mikaela, you do the honors. Take up the first one!" A's voice broke the silence. It was time to get to work. I knealed down towards the piece of wood and string that lay on the boulder infront of me, and after getting my cue from A, I started pulling. At first all I could see was the piece of fish I'd pierced through the giant safety pin within the cage earlier that night. It seemed whiter in the moonlight, and judging from the look of it, someone in the deapth of the water had thought it perfect for Friday supper.

As I pulled the cage towards me, I realized that the smelling piece of fish wasn't alone in the cage. It had worked, this year, too. Along with it five or six blue-black cray fish were crawling all over each other.
"I've got six" I called out to the others."
"Great, you wanna take 'em out?" A's voice shouted back.
"Sure. But I'm not positve I'm able too."
"It's easy. Just pinch them around the neck and pull. That way their claws can't reach you."
Not very assured by these words, I opened the cage and inched my right hand closer to the biggest of the six inside. The clipping of their claws made the characteristic sound that is impossible to describe to anybody who has never heard it.
I did as A had said; pinched it right below the tiny head and pulled. The other ones, probably all blinded with the light from the torches shining all their light on them, started stirring. They could probably sense what was going on. My first victim turned sqeemish in my hand. It got tangled up in everything on its way out, including two of its friends. My heart was pounding when I finally got it out and dropped it in the big bucket. I'd done it.

18 more cages supplied us with around 60 more of the, to be delicious, cray fish. As we got back to the house, it was almost already dawning, and we went to sleep.

Two days after, our labour payed off. A boiled the cray-fish in her secret brew, and along with the traditional spieced cheeses, the pies, the pannacotta and the disgusting liqour, they supplied us with the best cray-fish party one could have wished for. The other guests were stunned at the fact that we had done it ourselves. Just five girls and a dog called Lady. In other words, five ladies and Lady did it all. From scratch. Who ever said that the male is the braver and more handy of the sexes?!