The little boy of nine was about to do something, very stupid. He had been waiting for two hours to do this little stunt and finally, all the pieces he needed had fallen into place.
His father had left the stands for a coffee,
the lifeguards we're changing over shift which meant all their stands were empty for just a minute or so and the rest of the staff we're dealing with a whiney couple in reception.
So the little boy wrapped his goggles around his eyes as tightly as he could and with some ounce of trepidation he went down the ladder of the deep end.
Water had always fascinated the lad, especially the deeper tides of it. He had always wanted to immerse himself in the depths of an ocean yet the deep end of his local pool had to do.
With a spark of excitement and a budding grin he took a deep breath and threw his head into the water. Apart from one hand on the ladder, he put all of himself into the water.
He was finally scratching the itch of his curiosity, the bubbles around his immersion slowly hazed away, his eyes focused on the very depths of the pool,
it's murky navy blue piqued his curiosity even more as he visualized all the fish of the darkest abysses swimming around. He smiled.
Then he felt a light tap against his hand, the edge of a foot scraping against his hand. It was an accident yet it was just enough to break his hold and the boy began to descend.
His serenity became anxiety, the bubbles resurfaced as his calm demeanour became a fighting attempt to float. He could feel the straining of his lungs with flashes of pain and weakness.
In his head, he was screaming for his father, yet even such a primal instinct became hard to focus on.
The rims of his goggles started to trickle with water, the tips of his toes, fingers, cheeks and toes began to fizz.
Anxiety became a creeping fear, a battle to swim slowly devolved into a pitiful attempt of flailing and trembling like the last vestiges of strength becoming fleeting.
If he wasn't submerged he would swear he felt sleepy as if he was tucked in bed and slowly drifting into his dreams.
His eyes were forced closed as his body began to pause, even the pain in his lungs began to fade away.
Then someone grabbed his hands. His strength snapping back as a rapid fluttering of water washed off his skin.
His back whacked against the tiles of the floor, a teenager had pulled him up, who he later learned was a lad called Colton, yet beside him has his father, who patted his head, "I heard you,
son, I heard you", said his father, who had sent Colton to grab the boy as the father couldn't swim himself.
I went home after that. My father brought me fish and chips with a massive bottle of coke, I settled into bed that night with a phobia that still haunts me.
However, this story is over. The story of when I almost drowned.