I hate sailing. I know, I know, this seems odd for a kid who grew up on the water, canoeing, kayaking, swimming, and just plain ole spending my afternoons eating popsicles at a water's edge.
Here's why.
When I was 12 years old, my friend Ivy and I were alone in her house on the shore of the Hudson River. Her family had a good sized sloop, and I said I had never been on her boat. Ivy had the bright idea to take the two of us out on the river. I went along, both because I was the type of kid who always went along, and even though I could see the storm clouds working their way down the river.
Ivy got us out there easily enough on the mainsail only. We flew to the middle of the river in a few minutes.
That's when the trouble started. Ivy handed me the rudder and a rope, ordered me to hold the boat on course, which I did not know how to do, and lifted the jib sail. The boat went round once, tilting dangerously, then stopped dead. We were faced into the wind, and toward the oncoming storm.
My five minutes are up. My character and her friend do make it back to shore, The worst that happens is that my character is traumatized for life.
This freewrite is based on a true story my daughter told me yesterday, after I told her I had chartered a sunset sail on the Hudson for her and a few others for my upcoming birthday. She wasn't 100% gung ho about this idea of mine, and out popped her reason why.
I said "I don't remember your ever telling me this." My daughter said "Yeah, I figured this was one of the things I probably shouldn't tell you."
This is my entry to 
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image is mine
