I looked over the tangerine sun slowly lowering into the horizon. I took a deep breath making sure the air dropped all the way down to the bottom of my stomach, filling it like a balloon. My eyes wandered past the sun and onto the pitch black water. Thoughts started to race, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Was the one that had had to occur at least twenty times within those two seconds. My stomach churned. I knew I had it do it or I wouldn’t be satisfied. One by one my toes set on the cold, rough, gray railing. I could feel every one of them shaking, not in fear, but in excitement. I extended my knees, standing up onto the cement surface. I scanned my body; my thumbs were shaking as I lifted them up to measure the distance. This made my heart begin to race uncontrollably. I closed my eyes to focus on the beats, slowing them down to a steady pace as if it was a metronome. Opening my eyes I caught the sight of the people starring at me from the beach. They were waiting for me to jump, to go soaring into the water. Truth is so was I. I focused back into the situation; realizing if I wanted to do two flips without slashing my back on the water, I had to have almost perfect timing.


Losing my focus again I saw a sign that said “twenty feet” referring to how high the bridge was. It looked way taller than it was. Could be becausee of the water level or it was a result of my imagination going crazy. Then water grabbed my attention when I swore I saw something move. Imagining what could have been lurking in the depths of it sent cold shivers down my back. I figured nothing that dangerous could have been in it becausee there were families swimming in the shallower waters not too far away. Swallowing the spit that had been building in my mouth was easy becausee there wasn’t too much. I tilted my head forward to see if there was any more saliva…nothing. I paused there for a second, noticing my newly painted toes. They looked as if they were bright pink and green watermelons. I imagined them slipping into the water first, sending me straight to the bottom, smooching the neon green slime in between them.

“Okay, so it’s now or never.” played over and over in my head like a broken record. I bent my knees and launched off the railing like there was no tomorrow. I tried to make it as dramatic as possible for my audience on the beach. A rush of adrenalin sped through my body as I flipped once, then twice. My hands came above my head preparing for the murky depths of the water.


It felt as if I had been suspended in mid air for hours when I finally reached the frigid water. I slid through it like a hot knife through butter. I met the bottom; it was absolutely freezing cold. I tried to push off but my foot got stuck in the muck and held me down as its prisoner. Right there and then I thought I was going to have a heart attack and drown. But, I remembered when my dad taught me how to free myself from the “death trap” as he would call it. “Relax that foot and swim with your arms, whatever you do don’t get both feet stuck!” He would say to me when I buried my feet in that sand at the bottom, not knowing that it wouldn’t let me go.

So I did what he said and my foot slid out of the chilly green slime. I swam as fast as I could to the top, feeling like I would have passed out if I couldn’t get oxygen in the next second.

I gasped for air when I reached the surface, exhausted from what had just happened. And there he was, standing on the bridge.


“You got your foot stuck at the bottom didn’t you?” my dad said with a smirk of amusement spread across his face.



I looked over at him; he was trying to hold back a laugh. “maybe…”