Can't think of a title :/

Can't think of a title :/

doing a writing comp , so any thing need to get fixed up, just commet :) and please any ideas for a title woould be great :D

Chapter 1

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My feet flying across the water while my father held my arms and swung me letting me feet glide. I screamed hoping he won’t drop me; I looked around seeing my sister Carina, laughing hectically at me. I laughed at her laughter, Dad put me on the on the dock we were standing on. I ran towards Ceria trying to pick her up. My arms were too weak so I stumbled and fell in the water. I wasn’t a really good swimmer, I panicked I thrashed around hoping someone could save me. I felt dads hands once again on my arms, I felt safe at that very instant. Once my head arise from the water, I breathed heavily trying regain my breath. Choking on the water, Dad soothed me with pats on the back.

The lake was our family holiday we did every year. I can still remember the good memories, but it seems to end badly, but one memory that aches in the back of my head is when my father died from driving from the lake house to get some milk, he crushed just 10 metres way into a tree. I stood there and watch the horror in front of my eyes. A lot happen when I was 6, but it’s has been 10 years and things have changed a lot.

I’m Jazzabell and I’m 16, no father, depressed mother and a sister who’s never home. I visited that lake every year, the day dad died. And try to remember us, but the memories fade each year, making it hard to remember my hero. Today is that day, standing on the dock where I fell in. I have never been to brought me self to go back in the water, still the flashes of terror in my head of me drowning, No one to save me. Thought of it make my shudder, I walked back to the car and drove past the tree. I feel sick of the thought of dads car dis mangled on that tree, arriving home, no one there. I hoped someone could come to the cemetery with me, that hope was gone;

I got back into the car and drive to the cemetery, walking to the far end reaching Peter Jones head stone. I sit next to the grave and whispered “Dad, I hope heaven is good as it sounds, I just want to see you one more time you know, I love you my daddy?” I couldn’t hold the back; tears dripped down on the tombstone, watching the puddle get bigger. I wiped them away and so I sat there, remembering his face.

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