A Terrible Day In My Childhood

One dreadful day from my childhood still haunts me, the day when my new life began. Every time I feel frightened, that awful experience comes to my mind. No one can imagine what happened with me that autumn, when I was just 8 years old.
It was the last summer day. My parents, grandparents, and I decided to go fishing on Lake Arachley. We gathered a picnic basket, took out cooking utensils, checked our inflatable boat, charged the camera, got out badminton rackets, loaded our car to capacity, tuned on the car stereo system, and started our outing. It took us an hour and a half to reach the picturesque shore of the lake. After that, my father and grandfather put up a tent, my mother and grandmother began cooking a delicious stew over the open fire. I was running along the shore and playing with my dog. Nothing could foretell anything terrible that day.
Despite the end of August, it was balmy and clement. The water felt quite warm, so my father and I went swimming. White clouds lazily drifted along the sky. After a tasty lunch Grandfather said that it would be great to go fishing. He started to inflate the boat, taking no notice of the forecast for a thunderstorm. Of course, Grandmother did her best to persuade

Grandfather and Father fished out a lot of perches, but I failed to catch even one little fish. I felt upset and envious. Suddenly, I noticed that the wind had increased, the waves on the lake had become bigger, and the seagulls were shouting piercingly. I begged my relatives to finish the fishing and come back. But neither my Grandfather nor Father paid any attention to me; they seemed engrossed in fishing. All at once, everything turned quiet and seemed to calm down; the fish stopped pecking. It was the lull before the storm. Grandfather and Father looked at each other and resolved to go back at once, because it was dangerous to stay there. Unfortunately, their decision came