The Island

This one time, my sister and I took a swim in our lake.
Now, it's not our lake, but it's about a mile away from our house and our grandpa almost owned it, so it is ours in spirit.
Anyways, you're not allowed to swim there, but we always do.
And right in the middle of this lake is an island.
This island is mysterious. I'm talking scary new species of animals, there could be a deranged killer on there, island. But we didn't care.
So we swam to it.
Granted, it was a small lake, probably about a mile in diameter, but this island was terrifying.
And we swam, and I guess we're good swimmers because we made it easily.
And the second our feet touched the groud, the hard, sharp rocks the covered the ground cut into our feet and we were on the island.
We were subject to any kind of danger.
And so we slowly walked onto this island, and we explored a little.
It was loud with the sounds of animals and it was covered on every inch with trees and grass and rocks.
It was almost impossible to walk.
And when we were getting close to what we assumed was the middle, we heard something.
And we saw something.
It wasn't a good something, and I'm not even sure what it was, but it was bad.
Really bad.
So we booked it, and ran back to the shore.
And we swam back to the dock as fast as we could.
And we were lucky we did because right after we got back, our father appeared and told us to come home.
He doesn't like it when we go to the lake alone, and he would kill us with a spoon if he found out we went to the island.
He never found out, and he's not going to.
But still to this day, I keep with me the terrifying sound of that thing and the image of it.
And as amazingly awesome it was to rebel like that, I am never going back.
It seems as if the island has gained a little piece of my respect.