The Flood

• Tirus Chan, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

The lightning crackled once again as the sky became illuminated in an eerie yellow colour. Brown, murky water continued to gush into the house. There was no sign of stopping. I heard a faint, desperate breathing of my brother, gradually heavier. Oxygen became increasingly scarce. We were suffocating. There was no chance we could survive. Our hopeless souls would be trapped in this callous, menacing house. Despite several attempts to open the door to escape, in was impossible with the enormous water pressure outside. Air had never seemed so scare, so important in my whole life.

My brother and I have experienced several floods before when we were young. I remembered the foul smell as it leaked through the gaps. But never had we seen such a rapid one, in such great volume. Never was one so deadly, so callous to suffocate us, to torture slowly.

"Look after your brother," my mother had instructed me this afternoon, "We won't be back until midnight." She gently hugged me, before walking towards the car with Dad to work. I wondered what she would be thinking if she saw us. A little tear rolled down my cheeks. I had not looked after my brother properly. Now I let him die? Another voice screeched inside my heart. No, it's not my fault. It's the disaster. I splashed hatefully at the murderous water. Cold and cruelly, it laughed.

Pictures began to blur, as the lack of oxygen swept through my body like poison. However, I could still faintly remember how the calamity occurred. It was night, at about eleven thirty. Without any warning, the ferocious flood swept through the streets. The untamed beast charged through the streets, the suburb, the city, swallowing everything at sight.

Tears from my frightened brother spilled out like the rain overhead. Faster than ever, the water level rose. I knew this was my last minutes of being alive. My anger on why the floor happened slowly converted into fear. We were going to die. What would happen after? I could bear my own death but what about my brother? Responsibility suddenly weighed heavily upon me. I stared at his innocent, anxious face. The lack of light made him so pale, added to his fear.

The oxygen that remained was just a few centimetres from the ceiling. I forced my head to tilt back, consuming the last precious resources. Still, the gloomy, dismal water rose. I glanced around the house, certain that this was my last time looking at it.

The water reached the ceiling and I sank to the depths...

I heard a voice, a frightened voice calling my name. I opened one eye, then the other. It was my mother. I tried to sit up but pain snapped me back. I heard the silent motor of the boat propelling through the flooded place. We had nowhere to live, but we were surviving. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could breath properly...