Narrative

Every summer for the past three years my family and I have packed our bags and headed towards Christina Lake, our favorite vacation destination. We always have a blast taking my uncles boat out onto the lake and tubbing! Sometimes we'd take breaks to dive into the refreshing water, other times we head over to Indian Head Rock where my cousins would go cliff jumping. I had always been tempted to join them but my nerves seemed to get the best of me. Last year I finally mustered up the courage to conquer my fears and I jumped. It was my first...and last time.

The sun was out and the heat was enough to drive a man wild. Even the sand would burn our toes as we ran towards the cooling water. The shade was limited and in order to obtain any you'd have to be up at the crack of dawn. My parents thought a good way to spend the rest of the afternoon was on a patio boat, that we rented from the marine.

We were joined by a few friends; therefore making a total of thirteen bodies. It was nice to finally have somewhere to lounge and catch the sun's rays as well as the light breeze that blew across the lake.

When we all had had enough of lying in the sun, we headed over to Indian Head Rock for some cliff jumping action. My sister was the first to exit the boat followed by my brother then my cousins. One by one they climbed the precarious rocks, plunging into the dark but clear waters below. My determination grew. I had to do it.

I dove from the platform of the boat into the water. As I made my way over to the cliffs, I began to feel as though I was swimming to my death. Adrenalin made my heart race and my hands shake. I started the climb up the cliff when my brother stopped me, “Remember Roxy,” he warned, “once you're up there the only way down is jumping, and you have to jump out, away from the rocks.” My heart began to beat so hard I feared it might burst inside me.

Shaking