So, he had. And before he knew it, little Timmy found himself standing at the mouth of the hugest water-slide he had ever seen. Of course the very first time he decided to try one, it was the mother of all water-slides. He gaped wide-eyed at the curved death that lay before him, spraying water, laughing at him in it's own way. He swallowed hard as he looked at the sharp turn that would take him out of sight, into the unknown.

He turned around. Kids, adults, families of people staring at him. Someone laughed.

"C'mon, kid," the attendant said, scaring Timmy. He jumped slightly. "You gonna go or what?"

Timmy looked at the slide, at the angered attendant, then the slide again. Finally:

"Y-yeah." He squeaked. He went to hold onto the sides of the slide, but realized his tiny arms couldn't even reach them. He could remember the nerve-racking climb up the steps as he moved closer and closer, ascending into hell. He had followed closely behind his father and older brother, smiling his false smile to conceal chattering teeth.

First, his brother had flung himself down the slide, hollering with joy as he disappeared down it's twisting curves. Not so bad.

Then his father had followed, but backwards and on his stomach. He yelled wild-eyed as he propelled away from view, leaving Timmy in the place in which he still remained frozen.

Finally, he went: the speed at which he shot down the confines of the slide scared him at first, but soon Timmy found it wasn't so bad. In fact, it was fun! He hurdled down the slide faster and faster, not knowing when it would end, not caring, loving every high velocity, water-spraying second of it.

Suddenly, he was airborne; he was shot out of the twisting slide, out into the fresh air. He soared like an eagle for the longest moment of his life. So peaceful.

Then, he plummeted into the icy grip of the chlorine-choked water. Down and down he went. The sky was leaving him far above this watery place, this silent grave. There was no sound, save for the seemingly distant beating of his heart.

He tried swimming up. No luck. He began to struggle, reaching for the air that was so high above him. His chest was expanding outward, crying out for that very air that he strived for. He was drowning.

He could see the sun, distorted and wavy, shining down to him. He wished he could feel it's warmth. His head was starting to cloud up, his vision fading.

Then, salvation extended it's hand to him; out of the beams of heavenly light came an outstretched hand, reaching out to him.

He reached out with what little energy he had. He half expected it to be intangible, like the hand of an angel. Instead it grasped his arm strongly, pulling him with incredible force. He was shot to the surface, straight out of the water and into the air he never believed he would breathe again.

He gasped at the air, filling his lungs with the sweet giver of life. His vision cleared and he saw the face of his salvation.

"Dad," he whispered in shock and exhaust.

"Are you alright?" his father asked him with concern.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm okay." Timmy answered. His father helped him out of the pool which had almost claimed his life. Timmy was safe. He sat down for a few minutes, resting his weary body. He felt like laying down and passing out.

"Do you want to do it again?" his father asked of him. "I'll be close by this time."

"I don't want to do that again."

"Come on, if you don't do it again now, you never will. I promise I'll be right there to get you when you come down." His father assured him.

"I just don't feel like it, Dad."

"Just one more time, I promise."

Timmy looked up at the huge slide, the steps which had brought him there, the small amount of people waiting on line.

"One more time?"

"I promise."

"Yeah, let's go." Timmy finally said, and ran up the steps.