The Deadly Swing

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One summer day in Washington. 75* outside. I stood out front smelling the cool summer air when my mom came out of the rented cabin we were staying in and told me we were going to the lake. I walked up the cracked stone steps up the driveway then jumped into the old navy blue 2004 Sienna Toyota whose electric door wasn’t working. We started driving through the beautiful country side.

We were on vacation with are aunt and uncle. They lived in the old house across the street that had a bee farm a garden and a pasture that they could probably put cattle in but they say it would be too much work.

So we’re riding in the the car with are relatives squished beside us my dad driving. We have a kayak in the back. While we are driving me and my brother spot a swing that goes into the lake and we both decide that when we get to the lot we would go find it. We soon arrived at the lake and we all admired the amazing view of Mt Rineer. We all walk to the lake and stick our toes in before diving head first into the cool refreshing lake water. We all pop up with big grins on our faces before my brother and I leave the pack to go find the swing we saw earlier.

We decided to swim to the swing because my brother doesn’t have any shoes, but we get tired and decide to walk on the side. We arrived at a large plateau of rock that crumble really easily leaving shards that could possibly cut your feet. My brother refused to continue because he said his feet hurt. (By the way my brother is older than me) I give him my sandals and we continue up the hell like landscape of shard rock. When we get to the main trail we realize that there is more shard rock and I let out a loud grunt each step I take my feet screaming in agony, but I continue. This was an adventure, and I would do anything to reach that destination. By the time we arrived I had three cuts on my left foot and eight cuts on my right foot, and they all hurt like crazy

The swing was lame and dangerous looking there were large rocks inches from the top of the water and you had to make it at least six feet before you reached the deep end. There was also a ton of shard rock and a cliff that went in the water with tree with the rope on it just dangling off the edge.

We both decided that I would go first, so I stepped out to reach for the rope. I stretched out my arm and just glanced the edge of the rope before slipping. I fell onto my butt, but I had grabbed a root before I could fall into the shallow pool. My brother ran down and helped me up. We decided to use a stick get the rope. My brother reached out and hooked the swing before bring it in. We both held our breaths as I prepared to jump. There were five things that could happen; I could slip and plummet to my death, the rope could possibly not support my weight and I would plummet to my death, I might hit the rocks on the bottom and die, or I would swing back afraid to let go and die of impact and fall, or hopefully I would let go and make it to the deep end. The odds? Probably not in my favor, but I wasn’t going now. So I took a deep breath and swung with all my might. I whooshed through the air out of the water and let go, then I fell. I fell, and fell, and fell. I then hit the water. Splash!

I was alive that’s for sure because I came up breathing in air my brother had his eyes fixed on me shocked I asked how id done and he said I had missed the rock with about three inches. We swam back going with the current and told our parents.

I still hate swings that are unsure of safety, and I am not to fond of taking risks these days, for I will never forget the swing of death.