Drought To Drowning

• Oran Zammit, Grade 3, Mt Isa School of the Air
• Short Story
• 2019

3rd in the 'Just Keep Writing 2019' competition

Opening my gluggy eyes, I squint into a new world, bright and blurry. Feeling wet and sticky, something prickly licks up my face clearing my vision. My beautiful mother, cleaning and welcoming me into this world. It’s hot, bone dry and not a bit of grass in this barren land. Dust stirs when we move. Mother says that we’ve been in a drought for years and we must pray for rain. I prayed hard.
The next day, the air felt thick. The wind kicked up dust devils and huge, dark clouds covered the sky until not a bit of the sun was left. It’s finally here! This must be the rain! A sweet, earthy smell filled the air and the first drops hit my face.
“It’s raining!!!” I grinned as I jumped around.
“It is!” exclaimed Mother. “Now the grass will grow again, you’ll see how beautiful our home looks when it’s green with luscious grass.”
For 10 days it poured. Inch after inch. Our miracle turned to disaster. The barren land became an ocean, new rivers flowed in every direction and the ground became like thick soup – impossible to walk through.
Mother pushed me through the mud, trying to get to higher ground. I could see all our friends trying as well, getting bogged and sucked down. I could hear mothers bellowing for their calves and calves for their mothers, gurgling and crying, as they drowned.
We were nearly at the top of the ridge when mother slipped and plummeted to the ground with a sloppy thud. She was exhausted from pulling herself through belly-deep sludge and she couldn’t lift herself any more. She laid down and folded her head over her shoulder to keep it above the water and mud.
“Keep going up to the rocky ridge and find shelter out of the wind and rain. I can’t continue, but you have to try! I love you!” Mother panted.
“I won’t go without you!” I cried.
Mother sighed and closed her eyes, never opening them again. I bellowed and kicked but nothing would wake her.
Freezing and alone I sloshed my way up to the ridge, only to see thousands of my friends and family dead, scattered across the flat and piled in corners of paddocks against the fences. We prayed for rain, but not for this.
I wandered around for days, calling for anyone but found no one alive. Defeated, starving and shivering fiercely against the wind, I staggered back to Mother. She had not moved.
The sun had come up yesterday, but I had not noticed. It was still so wet and cold. I curled up beside Mother, her skin peeling off with the dried, flaking mud. Resting my head on her stiff legs, I noticed a tiny, green shoot has popped up out of the mud. Just one. I think to myself that Mother was right; the grass will grow, and I close my eyes knowing I will not see it.