A Wet Day

Lee Mitchell

It was a sunny summer day and as I woke up in the Spanish hotel, I felt fine; nothing unusual. My mum had woken me up at 9am, just in time for breakfast. I switched the television on and checked the weather forecast, it was in Spanish, but I still got the gist of it.

Breakfast was uneventful - the usual continental selection of meats and pastries, and once we had prepared for the day ahead, we left the hotel and headed down to the pool to meet up with my cousins, who were already there.

The day we arrived, my cousins had bought a small dinghy from the gift shop with their pocket money. One of my cousins, Marc and I were sitting in the dinghy and having a casual chat when suddenly, there was an eerie silence amongst the hustle and bustle of the holiday resort.

I heard a shout, 'Aaaaaaah!'. I turned round and seen Marc jumping towards me from the poolside. I worked out that he would land in the middle of the dinghy so I jumped out; after all, we were only in the shallow end.

I expected my feet to touch the hard, solid bottom of the pool at any moment, but they did not. I was drowning, I couldn't breathe! I was probably underwater for about fifteen seconds but it seemed like hours. I could see dots in front of my eyes, my life was flashing before me, everything was fading.

Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped me firmly and I was rising from the depths of the pool, someone had saved me! The man lifted me out of the pool and set me down on the poolside. I coughed up what seemed like litres of water, but within thirty minutes, I had fully recovered.

After this incident, thankfully, I have come to terms with my ordeal although sometimes I do think back to that day, the day I drowned and I wish I could have done something in return for that man; the man who saved my life.