Earthquke

• Summer Fraser, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2020

The fire-red sky blurred into my vision and the pain overwhelmed my body. Screaming and crying saturated my ears and the hard gravel printed into my skin. Buildings that I once looked up to, had been thrown down during a magnitude 9 earthquake. I tried to get up, but my body screamed to stay down until the pain subsided. Like tsunamis rippling through my skin, the pain radiated through my body. I opened my eyes. Dad once said they were filled with mystery and sparkles. Now they were empty. Something inside me pushed me forward and I began to search for my beloved father. House after house seemed unrecognizable from the earthquake, until I spotted our's. It had our signature yellow letterbox that could survive anything. I crawled forward. What seemed like a Millenium it took me to reach the house. It was crushed and I let out a bitter sob. Then, I heard it. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. I listened carefully again, though it was hard to with the screaming and crying. Again, THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. I crawled under the broken wood and squirmed through the holes in the walls. Then I saw him, my dad, banging wood against the floor. All the pain disappeared and the screaming drowned out as I embraced him. "We are going to be okay, chickpea," My dads honey-sweet voice mended the broken cracks in my heart. My blue eyes filled with sparkles and mystery again. I believed him, we were going to be okay.