The Flood

• Ellen Carey, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2014

The forked lightning flashed like a flickering switch across the sky. It was followed by a clap of thunder, which sounded like a hundred elephants where on the march. Rain slapped ferociously against the fragile window panes and hail slammed against the roof again and again. It was a deadly storm, dangerous and possibly life threatening.
The river rose, higher and higher, as fast as the thunder that angered the sky. People ran, panicked and screaming, from their homes. The villages were being evacuated, as the river would soon overflow and bury the village in a watery grave. It was a tough climb to safety, as the rain and hail were determined to make it hard for the villages.
They had just reached the safety of a hill high above the river when it broke its banks and cascaded down the hillside. Within minutes the whole village was under water. Only the peaks of the houses could be seen above the shimmering surface, that rippled as rain and hail fell joyously from the sky to join its long lost friend.
The storm continued for almost an hour and by the time it finished the villages had erected a small hut made of wood and bark. It looked like a rather large tepee and wasn’t flashy, but it kept out the angry storm and the howling winds. Finally realising that they could do no more damage, the elements of the storm released its hold of the helpless village. The sun returned and the villages began bucketing the water out of the village and salvaging the few items the flood and storm had not destroyed.