The Flood

• Isabel Rio, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2019

I tried to hold back, but my peers pulled me along. “It’s not my choice, it’s not my fault.” I whispered under my breath. I skid my thin, bruised legs on the ground, but it was no use. I was swimming up a stream. Metaphorically and physically. I thought of all the trouble I would cause, all the homes I would collapse and lastly, all the people I would kill. I was just a drop in the ocean. Again, metaphorically and physically. I had no say; whoever said one voice could change the world was wrong.

We drenched all things (living or not) in our way. I heard the joyous laughter of children turn to a vulnerable cry for help. I heard the relaxed humming of mothers turn into a distressed howl to round up their children. I saw hard working fathers sounding alarms and collecting lifeboats and life jackets for their family. The hovering clouds started shedding their droplets of water as the wind roared as loud as a roaring lion. The blistering cold didn’t help the situation. First, I swept over a field of crops drowning them of every hope they had left of surviving. Next, we collapsed a front porch causing the house to cave in, with people still inside. Not long after, we had swept through the whole town. I closed my eyes and wished myself away, though I knew it wouldn’t work. I finally opened my eyes to realise that I was stuck. I looked around to see what was in my path when I saw a man. Face down. Not breathing. He was dead.

This hit me like a bullet in the dark. I then, with great difficulty, swam to one of the only dry spots left. I stayed there for days, until finally, the wind took me. I evaporated into thin air. I once lived in the ocean. I now live in the sky. I am a water droplet that helped kill a man. I am not proud of my title, but it’s not my choice, it’s not my fault. (352 words)