Darkening Clouds

• India Beecroft, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2014

The tiny boat bobbed amongst the waves, bucking and turning to the whims of the water. Dark clouds poured rain down onto the wooden boat. It had been like this for hours; there was a continuing horror and knowledge that escape was almost impossible. On the boat, the two-crew members had given up hope of steering out of the tempest, and huddled in fear at the stern. The wind howled, whistling past their ears – accentuating the dread that they felt.

The eldest of the two members already knew how this ended; there was only one possibility for a storm this loud and on going. The youngest still had hope, clutching her coat and the hand of the older man. She hoped, against all of the desperate deities that had hedged their bets against them that the two would come out alive.

The older man, despite his bleak outlook on their position, knew that there was a chance of survival as long as the mast held. But with a sharp, ear-splitting sound all of their hope was lost. There was no hope without a mast, no chance of outrunning the storm and Mother Nature. The young woman, recognising this, let out a mournful wail. It was over and nothing could change that.

And, as soon as despair had overtaken the two of them, hope became apparent. The wind calmed, the rain slowed and the clouds scattered. The boat slowed its bobbing and twisting, and the two-crew members stilled in shock. The older man, for all his age and experience, was reminded that Mother Nature couldn’t truly be understood.