Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Writing Exercise Wednesday #33

Swimming pond and summer.  Go to it and make it mysterious.

     Down at the old mill was a swimming pond. All summer me and Hank and Bethany turned into fish. The rope Father hung was well worn in and swung like Tarzan’s vines. It never mattered how hot we were or how cold the pond was – we’d jump anyhow.
     The summer Old Man Hooper died was the last summer Hank and Bethany and me were fish. Watching the rope being cut down made my heart ache. Bethany cried. I’m not sure who she was crying for: herself or Old Man Hooper. But ever since that day, anytime we’re around the adults, we only whisper his name.

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