A great fish was thrashing in its death agonies a few metres away, but Jeff scarcely noticed it.

Mortally hurt, the great fish thrashed about in its agony, dyeing the water crimson with its blood and creating a great commotion upon the surface of the lake, a commotion that attracted the attention of those in the galley.

Sensing freedom, the fish thrashed wildly, showering me with warm, muddy water, before zooming off.

Suddenly, the fish thrashed in its tank and went still, drifting like a dead thing.

A fish inside my stomach wriggled and thrashed, and I looked away.

You will watch the fish thrash and struggle until a golden ring falls from its mouth and the kingfisher will dive to retrieve it, dropping the fish, and the ring will become a beautiful woman and the kingfisher will capture her in its beak and fly toward the heat of the sun.

The fish thrashed and bumped against one another to get at the food.

A fat blue fish, half a metre long, was thrashing frantically on the sand by her shoes.

The trapped and surrounded fish thrashed the surface until it boiled like a porridge of molten, flashing silver; through it drove the fast dark torpedoes of the hungry tuna.

Its bark rippled like the surface of a lake in which fish thrashed about unseen just beneath the surface.