First fish

The cool breeze, the fishy smell and the sun. Where am I? Telegraph Cove. My sister, my dad, my mom and I boarded my uncle's boat to go out to the bay. After about one hour, the first fish bites the line. As my uncle reels it in, the fish struggles to stay in the water and soon comes aboard with a thump. The young pink salmon was still alive when pulled aboard. Then my uncle yelled, "James, whack it!" So, I had to whack the salmon. After a few whacks, the fish was dead and a small pool of red blood formed. I felt some guilt for killing the fish. After that, we reset the line and began waiting. Then my sister looked proudly at the fish (since it was hers). About one hour later, my line began zipping into the water (which meant there was a fish on the line). The fish fought hard for awhile but soon gave in. When the young pink salmon came aboard with a thump, my uncle grabbed the bulky wooden club and whacked the fish a few times. And once again, a small stinky red pool of salmon blood formed. When we got off the boat, my father and mother looked proudly at my sister and I. Then we took pictures holding the fish and wearing the viking helmet (you wear it when you catch a fish). In the end, I went home with the first fish I ever caught.
The End