The Flooding

• Silas Donald, Grade 5, Belair Public School -
• Short Story
• 2022

Excellence Award in the 'National Treasures 2022' competition

Torrents of water poured down the hill like a waterfall, threatening to sweep our house away. All manner of things were drifting around in what seemed like an ocean rapidly forming at the bottom of the steep hill our defenceless house was built on - how long would it be before our lifelong home got swallowed up with the ever-rising water. Thunk! A small tree rammed the wall. Smash! An unhinged door torn mercilessly away from its house shattered my bedroom window. Yet my family and I could only watch in despair from the roof as our house got battered up, our belongings were taken, and our spirits got washed away by the monstrosity of a flood.

“Not the china teapot!” yelled Mum.
“My bed!” my sister shouted.
Yet it was useless. We were helpless, stranded on our roof, yet it was only a matter of time before that got washed away too, taking us with it. Lots of things were rising - the floodwater, our heart rate, our nervousness, yet not our will to keep on fighting.

The air was filled with shouts of terror, the whir of helicopter blades, and pounding hearts.
“The helicopters are going to save us!” Dad declared vociferously, battling the other deafening sounds for control.
Yet it felt like the helicopters were deliberately ignoring us, seemingly rescuing everyone else and leaving us until last.

Whoosha! Whoosha! Whoosha! As a helicopter finally airlifted us to safety, what felt like years later, though in truth only a few hours, we had mixed emotions. We were safe, yes - but all our belongings had been washed away. Well, at least we have family.

Back at the flood site an eagle rescued a baby hawk from drowning, because hawks were distant family - and family was what mattered, whether you were an eagle, a hawk or even just a funny little human being.