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The Lake - Original Writing

Decent Essays

I grew up in Ohio. For years, every summer we’d go to a family friends house to use their lake house. Looking back, it doesn’t seem like a lot, but I remember spending countless hours snorkeling, swimming, and paddle boarding. When I was 14, I refused to go again. I hated that house, I hated the lake. I’ve been having nightmares about the lake ever since. No matter how many times people ask what’s wrong with me, I never give an explanation. I prefer not to talk about it, whenever I do, I feel like I’m back at the lake. I feel like I can start to smell the lake. This lake- my lake- slowly started to develop the smell of death. Now I know that sounds dramatic. You wouldn’t just smell the air and say “Oh that’s death”. No, it was just a subtle smell you caught once and then it was gone. You’d think it was a dead fish, and maybe look around for one, then soon you’d forget about it. I only noticed it was getting worse because I was there almost every day from morning to night. The property the lake house was on was nice. It had open huge wooded areas and open fields full of summer flowers that our dogs played in. Thinking back on it now, it was beautiful actually. This area wasn’t very populated. You had to drive at least 40 minutes before you reached any kind of civilization. There were only two other houses that shared the lake with us. On the right side of the house, there was a house that reminded me of a farm house. It was two stories and was painted a deep crimson. Out

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