In an old house, the crocodile lurks beneath the pool’s surface outside.We sat in to hear stories from the housekeeper. The cottage was damp and dark, we lit it in the middle with some lantern we all gathered by. Kept at the tip-top of our heels by the news, we ran up the remote stairs to a large, open balcony.
The desolate pool was, for the most part, visible, however, a shadowy patch lay vague and unattended. You wouldn’t wish to swim down there, neither in night nor day; it was eternally black. Rich trees covered the greenlands encircling the site and the mint air was a fine reason to live there. The owner escorted us down by the poolside to reiterate the news; the Croc had found its way out.
Some left the shed, I decided not to part. In his nuisance, the housekeeper shoved me into the pool ~ the cleaner parts. I swam through terror beneath me then sliced a cold-dead stare to the right where the safeguard skimmed excitedly. I made my way to the opposite end of the pool in order to be kept well away from the creature.
The Croc was found inside, nowhere near as large as the scare. A baby beast with its light complexion and feint, little legs. The safeguard held it erect and took it to the cottage from which it was found. I stared out the pool and woke in oblivion.