Creative Writing #3

As a group we were split into pairs and had to recount a tale to our partner. Out task was to then take this tale, and write it as if it was our own personal experience.

As I was stood there at the top of those steps, I felt truly invincible. Fully confident of my own diving ability, I was preparing to jump. It was only 2009 so London 2012 seemed out of the question but, hey, I wasn’t prepared to rule out Rio. The familiar rush of adrenaline was coursing through my body as was the case when I was preparing to dive. Looking down on the water, the Mediterranean sun refracting off the broken surface, I knew the time was drawing near.

We were on our usual family holiday. It was mid-August as was customary. Everyone was there: Mum, Dad, brothers and sisters, Grandma and Grandad, cousins, aunts and uncles - extended family was a big deal to us.

 I could hear my Father and Grandfather below arguing. I craned my neck down to see what the commotion was, this was my moment after all and I wasn’t about to be upstaged by some late revival of the Oedipus complex. There had always been, animosity between them but it was generally put down to a generation gap. Dad transitioned though adolescence during a time of political and social change. Opinions were shifting. Dad took them on, Grandad didn’t. Ever since there had been a certain friction between the two men.

It was something much more trivial. Apparently, according to my Father, the water was too shallow, and obviously my perception from this height was going to be false.  Brilliant. Grandad was much more encouraging and evidently believed in me. He was telling Dad that I would be fine and that the water was clearly plenty deep enough. At least there was one person there who was sure of my capabilities.

Fuck it. I jumped.  Perfect form.  No splash.  10 10 10 10.  Gold Medal.  I rose from the water like a mermaid, rising through the wash like I almost had no actual physical being. The water fractured around me as if I was passing through a sheet of glass. The sunlight was glinting off the pearls of sea that were clinging to my hair and shoulders. I open my eyes and let them adjust to the light and then saw my family stood there. Dad looked astounded and Grandad was looking at him with a smug grin on his face. He wouldn’t let it go for the remaining 10 days now, I could tell.

Smiling I began to swim towards them. It was warm, incredibly warm, and it felt like there was a bit too much water on my face considering how long ago I had surfaced. I was willing to ignore all of that though for the opportunity to show Dad he was wrong. This was a rare moment that I unwilling to slip through my fingers like the water was slipping over me as I neared the shore.

Dad was shouting my name repeatedly, trying to get my attention to congratulate me and tell me he knew I could do it all along no doubt to attempt to save face. I would try to wave but I was mid stro…

I woke up, fully submerged in water and, from the red colour surrounding me, what I can only assume was blood. Suddenly my eyes bulged and I was struggling for breath. I felt something around my ankle and I started to struggle, what on earth was that. I was hauled out the eater and it became apparent that the force on my ankle had been my father. Shit. I reached up to touch my face as the burning sensation hit. I was covered in cuts and scrapes and I was fairly sure that my nose was broken too. It never used to be at that angle, did it? Well, it appeared that Rio was definitely out the question.