Eruption Shore

• Bailey Leadbitter, Grade 6, Russell Vale Public School
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Word Zone 2016' competition

I'm on the edge of consciousness as I finally wake up. I sit up, shocked and look around. I see that there is mostly bush, water and sand. The only feature is a humongous volcano, bubbling with fury. I stand up and look out to sea. No land can be seen as I rotate 360* around the island, and then there was a rumble...
The volcano is erupting. I fall into the shallow water just as a fin slices through the water like a knife through butter. I scramble out of the water as more fins rise. Water to my left, volcano to my right. I look to the bush and see logs scattered on the forest floor. I feel through my pockets and find a Swiss Army knife.
Lava finally peaks out of the rim of the volcano as I scamper to the logs and start dragging them across the beach. Vines lay like rope amongst the leaf litter and I tell myself to remember them. I got the final log as lava burst out from the volcano like fireworks on New Year’s Eve.
The lava flows through the bush, making the trees rage with fire. I run and collect the vines and start making a raft. Out of five logs and three vines I was well on my way to finishing when I realised there wasn't going to be enough vines to tie all of the logs together. The sand made a Crunch! Crunch! with every stride I take as I run back to the dense forest that lava is rapidly consuming. I look around just as bright orange liquid comes charging towards me. There is only two vine left, I only need one.
I charge for the nearest vine. I snatch up the vine as the other is destroyed under the heat of the lava then run for all I'm worth back towards my raft. The vine goes over and under as I thread it between the logs, the lava only twenty metres away and gaining at a rapid rate. The final knot is tied and I lift the raft and carry it to the water’s edge and place it in, the lava only three metres... two metres... one metre, but before it can burn me to nothing, I leap to safety on my raft.
Safety at first anyway, for as soon as I left the shore, sharks assaulted me and start reaching for my limbs. I find the Swiss Army knife and start hacking at the sharks. One by one the sharks fell, sinking out of history. As I take out a shark, another sunk its fangs into my leg. I wince and cut off the shark's head and blood started covering my raft.
The last shark now dead, the lava harmless in the water, I paddle away towards the horizon, battered and bruised.