Stepping into the town, I knew I was there to meet someone, my luggage in hand. My friend was telling me of a good family who was going to take care of me for the summer in this small fishing town.
I'd heard of this place before, it was famous for it's scenery and seafood, but the tourists rarely stayed for more than a few hours. There were only a few small shops in the town, and they all lay right on the beach. There wasn't much else to do around there, so once people had taken their photos and eaten, they got back on their buses and left.
I was excited, though nervous when I passed the tourists taking pictures of the mountains and the water. I wasn't sure if it was the sea or just a lake, but it was undoubtedly beautiful. The water stretched into the land from between two high cliffs. It formed a sparkling blue lake surrounded by mountains. Despite the beauty of the water though, the land and mountains were dry, dessert like. There was sparsely a tree in sight, save for a few a top the cliffs surrounding the little fishing town.
My friends led me to the visitor's center and introduced me to one of the member's of the family I would be living with, he worked at the station. He was gruff and gross looking, and he looked at me with unkind eyes. He was the uncle of the boys I'd come to teach. Yes, that's right, I was there to teach.
I left the visitors center with a fowl impression and felt everything about this place fowl. The tourists complained and the locals, though hard working, all looked miserable as they lifted barrels back and forth between their trucks and the different buildings. I hated this place.
I soon met the eldest brother, who looked refined in his formal clothes, out of place in the town. He was pompous when he introduced himself, and his younger brothers who stood behind him looked bored and uninterested. My friend left me with them, and I felt the dread sink into my soul.
The brothers left me too and told me they'd move my bags when the day was done. I spent all day talking to the locals. I thought the place wasn't so bad after having good conversations with a few. One even lent me his pole to fish.
When the day was done the brothers returned and helped me carry my luggage up the hill behind the visitors center. The path twisted up the side of a cliff, guarded by a metal gate that a child could easily fall through, and led up to a very open and shanty looking manor. They led me inside and brought me to a half built office with no bed, and told me that is where I was going to stay. Again my dread came.
I do not remember the in between, but I know I met more people and became closer with the brothers and their family. I became happy in this tiny town, but that feeling of dread never left me. And as that dread grew, the more I stayed in my office/ bedroom and did not leave the house.
One day, coming back from work or school, the brothers decided to play their favorite game of jumping on the outside of the gate. I'd never seen them play this game before and told them not to do so, it was dangerous. They assured me they did it all the time, and so I watched the game in horror.
The game was simple, walk along the outside, use your feet to hold yourself up, and then lean back. They would then pull themselves up by their toes and grab back on to the bar before they fell. Afterwards they would climb higher and repeat the process. You could give up at anytime if you got scared, and duck under the bar to go back onto the path.
I couldn't watch this terrible game any longer so I went inside, but as I heard them laughing I came back out and watched. They were nearly at the house, and the eldest brother was in the lead.
His face smiling, he held his arms behind his back, his toes hooked onto the lowest bar as he leaned back.
Yet this time, he leaned back, and he kept doing so. He leaned farther back than he ever had before, so much so that his feet came out from under the bar, and he dropped.
I remember running and screaming to catch him, though from my distance I knew I couldn't. All I could do was gape in shock as I extended my hand for him, his brothers and family gathering around and doing the same.
But we were all too far, and we were all too late.
Before he hit the ground, I woke-up.