Sara watched the boys splashing around in the creek. Each little brown body, tanned from hours in the summer sun reaching out to be the one that captured the ball. The dark muddy water gave her the shivers though. She knew it's secrets. The tire swing that once hung from the great oak tree that gave her shade now, long taken down. If only the boys knew how dangerous this place could be.

She couldn't tell them though. They knew the stories and still, in the heat of the southern summer sun all they could think of was getting in the water and playing. Hopefully there would not be a repeat of the last time she dared enter the creek. Maybe as long as she stayed out of the water nothing bad would happen.

On that day, nearly fifteen years ago now, the tire swing had been cut down by the father of the boy who had died swinging out over the waters depths. His head had hit a rock hidden by the dark muddy depths that made the water look deeper than it was. Two weeks later, a water moccasin had bitten another boy who had nearly died. For several years no one had come here to swim. It had only been in the last couple of years that the family of the first boy had moved away and people began to forget.

Sara however couldn't. She was forever vigilant. No one was going to hang another swing from this tree and it was the only one that was strong enough and reached out over the creek far enough to be good for a swing. Her eyes rarely left the surface of the water, always searching for that tell tell sign that a snake was approaching. The S -shaped ripples, the small head sticking up out of the water, She alone knew to blow the whistle calling everyone in as though there was a shark bearing down on them. Truth be told she would prefer a shark to a snake. At least a shark was easier to see, with that fin on it's back sticking up out of the water.

She sat there for what seemed like hours as the boys played, every so often a parent would stop by and say hello on their way to grab their child. This was good. She had started doing this on her own, but now there was talk by some in town who still remembered, of paying her to watch them. They could do that if they liked, She wouldn't complain but she would be here no matter what watching the children play.

"Momma, which tree was that tire swing in? You know the one that killed, Uncle John." A voice full of youth and vitality sounding so much like her older brother asked as her son approached dripping wet from the creek ball in hand. Good he had won the day at least for today, she thought as she looked up at him with a sad smile.

"That would be this one, Sweety," she answered looking back out at the water.

"Is this why we stayed? When everyone else moved, is this why we stayed?"

"No boys will ever swing from this tree again so long as I am alive. So yes, that is why we stayed." Sara patted the blanket she was sitting on as an invitation for her slowly drying son to sit.

"Well if that's the reason, then I am happy we stayed. The tree is to pretty to cut down and your right about the swing." Sara just smiled softly to her son. One day she would tell him the reason Uncle Jack wasn't quite right was because of a snake bite. But, he didn't need to know that yet. Who wanted to know that their parents met due to two tragedies that happened in the same place two weeks apart. No, no need to traumatize the boy. As long as she was here looking all would be safe.