It was early morning, and the air was already hot and sticky with humidity. Cicadas whirred loudly in the cypress trees and crickets chirped in the swamp grass. On the faded wood dock sat a man named Ruby, who was kind of short and had long, curly hair. He had a fishing pole in the dark, swamp water and was waiting for fish (specifically catfish) to bite. The sun still had yet to rise.
Fishing was his only job, and it had been his father's before him. His family had lived in the bayou for generations on generations. As far back as Ruby could look in the past, his family had been there. Things were getting tough, though. A sigh left his chest while he thought on that and he ran a calloused hand through his hair.
While he sat thinking, he heard a familiar whistle come snaking through the air. Ruby cast his eyes up to see his business partner, and best friend, Scrim walking towards him. He was sort of tall and had dark hair as well.
"Hey, what's up?" Ruby asked. Scrim shrugged a bit as he lit a cigar and sat down by him.
"Not much. Thought I'd come to see how you were doing."
Ruby kind of nodded and looked back towards the horizon. The sunrise looked awful red, like wine spilled on new velvet, and heavy clouds held it hostage. The smell of Scrim's cigar lingered in the space around them and the air still writhed with humidity. It was times like these that he wished they had electricity.
"You think it's gonna storm?" Ruby asked, looking over to Scrim as he spoke.
"Mhm. No doubt about it. Last time I went into town there was talk of a hurricane coming through."
Ruby raised his eyebrows in a matter of fact sort of way as Scrim spoke. He wouldn't be terribly surprised if there was one. It definitely wasn't the best thing that could happen, but he wouldn't be shocked. Naturally, the conversation continued on and on, focusing mainly on tomorrow and the coming week. The topic stayed on the future until the sun fully climbed into the sky.
Though the sun was high and it was at least ten o'clock, the world still seemed dull. The light was cast in a muted and dusty way through building storm clouds. By the looks of things, the supposed hurricane might be there sooner than expected. Scrim coughed loudly and looked around while a wind stirred the muggy air and rustled the cypress boughs. He rose to his feet and brushed the wrinkles from his shirt, some ashes falling to the old, weather-worn dock.
"I'm gonna get the house boarded up. You can help, or you can keep fishing, your choice," Scrim's voice was smooth like the smoke of his cigars. Ruby looked up to him, taking note of the anxiousness set in his usually calm blue eyes. He thought for a minute, time not seeming to be present, before he answered.
"Yeah, of course I'll help. Just give me a second, I'll come up there soon."
Scrim gave a small nod in response and walked along the dock to their shabby little cabin. Ruby sighed heavily and started reeling his line in, a chilly wind blowing in from the sea and finding its way right through his shirt. After he got his fishing things put away he went up to help Scrim with the house. He helped board up the windows and get things on the ragged old porch tied down. During a pause, Ruby looked back out towards the coming storm.
Significantly stronger winds wound through the bayou like ink in water. They were fluid and ravenous and they riled up the water, sending white-caps arching against the dock. Ruby watched this all with eyes drowning in concern. Surely they'd be fine, he thought to himself, surely everything would be alright. Things didn't always have to go wrong, did they? No, of course not. He shook his head as if to shake his worries away and got back to trying to secure their home.
