Big Fish!

Walking around the lake up north had always been a family tradition for my cousins and I. It was miles around and would take the whole day to go completely around. I was really young the first time my mom let me walk around with my cousins, maybe six or seven; I was crazy and naive. It was so hot that day, almost ninety degrees without a cloud in the sky to hide the blistering sun. We walked along the sandy shore, not expecting a single thing to go wrong.
We had barley gone past a couple cottages when we reached an old man pouring fresh, wet cement into a pit. His dog sat, panting beside him. The scruffy dog smelled a cat though, and took off running. The old man set down his cement supplies and ran after his dog, leaving the wet cement totally unattended. Being seven, and curious, I decided to stick my hands into the cement making a perfect outline. Only as soon as I tried to pull them out-- they were stuck. Just then, the old man came back with his dog, and saw me squatted next to his wet cement, with my hands stuck in them.
"You!" He yelled, and ran towards me, his dog on his heels. I pulled and I yanked, but the quick-dry cement was almost hardened. My cousins yanked me up, and the whole cement tablet came with it attached to my hands. Pulling me along, my cousins raced out of his yard and just kept running, not paying attention to where we were going. The heavy cement weighed down on my weak hands and arms, but I could still hear the man running after us, and the dog barking so I didn't dare stop.
When we finally lost him, and got a chance to look around at our surroundings, we realized that we had no idea where we were. The sandy beach had turned into a muddy swamp, and willow trees blocked out much of the sunlight. An old, withered, red cabin hid behind the shadows of the trees. The windows were boarded up, and no light shown through. The only noise was my small whimpering of pain from the heavy cement still glued to my hands.
"Oh Sarah, come here," my oldest cousin said, holding a big stick. He began hitting the edges of the cement to break it off, and the noise echoed throughout the swamp. Suddenly, we heard a faint, eerie call coming from the cabin. Our heads all snapped up to see the door to the cabin slowly opening. At first, it seemed as if just the wind blew it open, no one was there. But after a minute a short, wrinkly, old woman appeared on the porch.
"It's a witch! It's a witch, and this is her haunted house!" I whispered to my cousin.
"No I'm not," the woman on the porch crackled. I gasped, amazed that she heard me. She came down the steps, across the lawn, and right up to me. She tapped three times on the piece of cement and it instantly crumbled into dust. I gasped, and my eyes widened to the size of watermelons.
"If you're lost, go straight back behind my house, and continue walking until you reach the dirt road. Turn left, and just keep walking," she croaked. But none of us moved, we just continued to stare, wide eyed and wondering.
"Go on now, I can tell-- your parents are worried".
Too scared to move, but too scared to stay we slowly stood up and began to walk away. I could hear her crackle of a laugh as we walked on, still questioning if she was telling us the honest truth or not; but it was better than still sitting in front of her house.
Sure enough, the road led us back to our cabin, and our parents were worried. Of course they didn't believe that a real witch lived on the lake, but we would always believe.