PSLE: Drowning

A recurring nightmare keeps replaying in my head and haunts me for years after my younger brother passed away.  I blame myself all the time for causing his death.  How I wish I could turn back the clock but this could never happen…

It was a lovely day as white fluffy clouds puffed overhead.  The temperature dropped to a comfortable cool and I could feel the sprays of seawater misting my skin.  I could almost taste the salt in the air.  It was a perfect day for a dip in the sea with my brother, John.  He was a scrawny fellow with an air of arrogance about him.  He always liked to boast and even though I had always been a better swimmer, he had always refused to admit it.

“Hey!  I bet you can’t swim to the shark net and back faster than me!” John threw me a gauntlet.  I ignored him for I would rather build sandcastles than swim with a little rascal.  Anyway, I could not believe he could do it. 

“I bet you can’t even reach halfway,” I taunted and continued my digging.  A majestic sandcastle was taking shape.

“I’ll prove you wrong, Bro!” he replied arrogantly.  The daredevil then stomped off, plunging into the azure waters.  I brushed it off and continued to build my dream sandcastle.

A few minutes passed.  I was surprised that he had not come back boasting about his accomplishment.   He was nowhere to be seen.  I was getting a little uneasy.  What was John?

I scanned the surface of the sea whose waves were glinting under the brilliant sunshine.  Suddenly, I spotted a flailing arm.  It was definitely John.  He was bobbing up and down the surface of the sea.  Somehow, he could not swim properly.  It could be that the undercurrents were sucking him downwards.  Then, John vanished.

Panic struck!  John could die!  I would not be strong enough to drag him to shore even if I could swim and reach him.  A brainwave struck me.  I ran to a toned-bronze lifeguard and pleaded, “My brother has just disappeared under water.  Please save him!”

Alarmed, he jumped into the sea and attempted to find him.  I prayed fervently for his safety as I had promised to take good care of John when I had suggested to Mother to bring him for a beach outing, just the two of us.  Even though he could be annoying at times, I realized that he was really precious to me after all.

After what had seemed like eternity, the lifeguard emerged to the surface with John.  He was unconscious.   With strong, deft strokes, the lifeguard swam towards the shore, with John's head tilted up.  

Once they reached the shore, the man laid him on the sandy beach.  I sprinted toward him, crying out, “Are you okay, John?”  There was no reply.  The saviour then administered CPR on John but failed to revive him despite repeated attempts.   John was dead.

My heart plummeted.  Tears trickled down my sunburnt cheeks as I fell onto the ground, blaming myself for his untimely demise.  The waves came and washed away my sandcastle.  They took away my brother as well.   

I wish I never jeered.  I wish I was a little more patient.  A little kinder.  

Late.  Too late.