Personal Narrative: My Secret Lake

1431 Words 6 Pages
Life and death seem so different, so distinct; only, after what happened tonight, I can’t tell the difference anymore.
Keflavík, Iceland is my safe haven, my home. It is where my great grandfather learned how to herd sheep, where my mother fell in love with my father, where I was born. Every day of Winter, after the sun has set, I slip out into the silence of the night to sit alongside my Secret Lake. It is my way to escape reality, to just be. The water is frozen, the ice glistening in the soft light of the moon. Tonight, the moon is blazing yellow, creating the dark shadows of the towering trees of the forest. I am only one human, one tiny ant of the world, yet as I rest upon the lake’s bank, I feel as though it’s only me and the crystal lake.
I begin to stand,
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Yet, I lift my left leg, my entire body trembling in fear. A newer crack forms, creating a piercing, ripping sound that echoes through the lifeless woods. The ice cracks in between my legs, stretching my arms and legs to their limit. As I look down, I see a dark, empty hole. I don’t know how far down it goes, or if there is even a bottom. I frantically heave myself to the right side of the widening crack, attempting to avoid the water. The ice then shatters beneath me, the little stability that I had now completely gone. The bitterly cold lake robs me of my breath, my throat overflowing with water. My long blonde hair twists itself into a tangled knot as I begin to sink toward the bottom of my Secret Lake. One thousand needlepoints puncture my skin; I try to fight them, but they continue to move deeper, deeper into my skin. Once all of my air has been stripped of my lungs, my body begins to numb. First my fingers, then my toes, moving inward toward my heart. I begin to lose hope, my body going limp. I close my eyes and wait as death creeps up on me. I sink deeper into my Secret Lake. My heart slows. I picture my home, my family, my

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