When I was about six, my family and I used to live outside a little house about forty miles outside of Trottingham.  The house was mediocre, and there was a limited amount of things to do besides play around in the woods by our house.  Inside the house was a decently sized lake which was perfect for swimming.  That's basically what me and my brother did most of the time.  In fact, we did it so much, our mother decided to have towels laid out on the bench outside of the backdoor.  It was a surprise to her the first time because we came in the house dripping wet.  Mother didn't like having her floor all wet.

A regular schedule of this lifestyle kept up for a few months when my grandmother decided to pay us a visit.  My grandmother's name was Granny Smith.  Granny was a wonderful person.  She would always bring us gifts, cook delicious meals, and tell us stories whenever she visited.  Anyway, while me and my brother were goofing around in the lake, our mother called us back to the house.  We found that Granny Smith was here.  It was a pleasant surprise, nonetheless.

After Granny had prepared us a delicious Apple Pie, she sat us down and told us one of her famous stories.  Her stories were usually theories about how things were created, or why things are the way they are now.  For example, she said the reason mosquito's buzz in your ears because they're asking you if you're mad because he stung you, or the reason wolves howl at the moon because the mother of all the wolves lost a bet to a rabbit and was catapulted up there.  She added her own voices to make it sound funnier.  We would laugh our flanks off until we started to cry.

But today's story wasn't like those.  Instead, it was a scary story.  

"There was once a little colt.  He loved to swim as much as you two whipper-snappers.  His mother always warned him not to swim on Sundays, but she never gave him a reason not too.  So, the rebellious young colt decided to swim in the lake just to make her mother mad.  But while he was swimming, a large fish swam up to the boy and swallowed him whole.  Neither the fish or the colt was found.  You see, the fish had magical powers.  It only appears when it's hungry, and when it's Sundays.  Some say that the fish is the devil's pet, but no one knows for sure.  Anyway, when the fish digests its meal, it will return.  This could be a matter of days, weeks, months, or even years."

Looking back, that story wasn't scary at all, but we were kids.  So needless to say, he were completely freaked out.  After that story, we refused to go anywhere near the lake.  This made mom happy because Sundays were supposed to be family days.  

After two months, it all went downhill.  

My father used to smoke in the house a lot.  He especially liked to smoke when he was working on some kind of home improvement project.   One Sunday afternoon he was applying lacquer to the back deck when his cigarette fell out of his mouth and into the pail of flammable liquid.  The pail caught fire, and in doing so, caught the rest of the house on fire.  My father ushered us all out of the house by the time the fire had become out of control.  

As I ran out of the house, my shirt caught fire.  Panic settled in, and I ran towards the lake.  I jumped in, and I heard my brother yelling at me.  "DON'T SWIM ON SUNDAYS!"

That was the last time I saw my family.