The Flood

This is my fourteen year old story.

 

            It was one of the largest storms of the decade. Maybe even of the century, or so the news said. Either way it was boring. I wasn’t allowed outside, the radio was busted, dad tried fixing it but it just ended up more broken than before, and Monopoly got old after the tenth game or so. Especially when the only person willing to play is your baby brother. Who’s two. But he spent most of his time napping anyway. Mom used her time to catch up on some homework. She’s an English teacher, and was way behind on a bunch of essays. Dad scavenged the house for stuff to fix. Unfortunately, his idea of fixed differed slightly from Moms. He’s slept on the couch ever since he tried ridding the master bed of its wobbly leg, and I ‘decided’ to keep him company, else share my bed with my mother. I of course, spent my time doing what every other teenager who’s been cooped up in his house for six straight day would do. I complained.

“Dad, when’s the rain going to stop? I’m so bored.” Told you. Dad shrugged.

“Most likely very soon dear. The clouds must be starting to raining themselves out.” Mom answered for him, “Why don’t you go play Monopoly with Emmit?”

“Mom, Monopoly is so boring. Beside, Emmit doesn’t understand it anyway.” I said.

“What? Of course he does!” She said, looking over at him.

“Mom….”

“Don’t you Emmit? Yes you do!” She cooed this, making the baby giggle, and clap his hand together.

“Mom he’s two.”

“Yeah? Well he’s smart for his age.” She said, still cooing.

“Tell me about it! I mean just the other day I saw him try and hammer the red square into the triangle hole on that toy workbench.” Dad said, sarcasm in his voice.

“Two against one Chris, I win.” She stuck her tongue out at me, and Emmit, seeing this, followed suit. Dad chuckled.

“Fine, I’ll play along. He’s smart for his age. That still doesn’t mean he can understand Monopoly.”

“Well there’s only one way to find out.” Dad looked at me, and smiled, ‘Ha ha!’

“That’s a good point!” Mom said, looking over at me, also smiling, ‘Listen to your father.’

“…”

“Chris….”

“…”

“Chris…” Mom glared at me.

 “Fine….” I sighed. I got up from my after dinner seat on the floor, and picked up Emmit. “Come on, let’s go prove to them how ‘smart’ you are.” Emphasis on the ‘smart’. I grabbed the board game, and walked out of the room. “We’ll be in the kitchen.” Emmit giggled.

About three hours later, I sat at the kitchen table, my head in my hands. He beat me. The little twerp beat me! But how? I sat back in my chair, and looked it over. I had rolled a six, landing on Pennsylvania Avenue, with four houses on it; rent came to one thousand two hundred dollars. I was bankrupt, and still owed one hundred and fifty bucks. I looked at him. He looked back. Smiling. ‘Ha ha! I beat you and I didn’t even roll the dice for myself.” It was true that he didn’t roll, I had to do that for him. Of course, I also had to keep track of his money, and buy hotels for him, and make sure he didn’t eat anything.

“Ok, so you beat me. Big deal. This game isn’t that hard anyway.” I started packing everything up, all the while he just smiled at me. Mocking me. ‘Ha ha!’ Once I was sure all the pieces were in the box, I took it, and Emmit, back into the living room. It was empty.

“Huh. Looks like Mom’s forgiven Dad.” I said to Emmit, as I looked down at the vacant sofa. “Oh well, good for him.” I set the game box down on the coffee table, and turned around, heading for Emmit’s room. I crossed the living room, went through the kitchen, passed the stairs and the entrance, down the hall, and into the room at the end. “Alright Emit, time for bed.” I walked up to his crib, with the small plastic airplanes hanging above, and set him inside. After spinning the mobile gently for a couple minutes, I looked down at him, and he smiled up at me. A genuine smile this time. I pulled my eyes into slits with my pinkies, and puffed out my cheeks. He continued to look up at me. I stopped. “That’s weird, you always laugh at that one.” I tried it again. He laughed. “Huh. I guess you’re just tired, I mean it’s already,” I looked up at the clock. It was shaped like Garfield, with his tail swinging slowly back and forth, counting the seconds. “Nine thirty? Oh man, if Mom were still up she’d murder me. Well I wont keep you up.” I walked over to the door, and switched the light off. “Goodnight Emmit.” I waited for an answer. A squeak, or a sigh, or something, but he was silent. I closed the door gently, and walked down the hall.

I checked the locks on the door, but there was no point. They’d been locked since Friday, when the storm came. Force of habit I guess. I decided to sleep on the sofa, since Mom was still in mine…With Dad. I shuddered. ‘Mental note: Clean sheets.’ I entered the living room for the third time that night, and looked around. It was kind of small, maybe twenty feet by fifteen. There was a fireplace on the back wall right in the center, but it was boarded up so the water didn’t flood the house. There were two chairs and the sofa adjacent to it, on either side of the coffee table. The large radio was in the corner farthest from the door. Next to it were two large shelves, filled with an assortment of books, pictures, and anything else that was deemed ‘shelf worthy’. On the opposite side of the room, closest to the door, was a…nook, for lack of a better word. It was an indentation in the wall that went back about two feet, before meeting with a window, that looked out at the street, which was currently flooded with about a foot of water.

I sat down in said nook, and listened to the rain for a while. After a few minutes, a strange sound caught my attention. It was like a dull roar. It was outside, and it was very far off. I listened in silence for a few more minutes. What was that? A plane? I doubt any planes would be flying anywhere near here. I would have said thunder, but that couldn’t be. For the past six days it was just rain. Why would it start now? Mom said it would end soon, not get worse. By now it had gotten louder, and much closer. Wait…what had Dad said the first night we slept down here?

“The storms not too bad, just wet. Very wet. All we have to worry about is the dam holding.” The dam.

“Chris!” I heard Dad shout my name. He was in the hallway upstairs, and from the sound of it, I gathered he was running towards the stairs. I jumped up, and ran to meet him. I arrived at the bottom of the staircase and saw him standing at the top. We stared at each other for a moment, and we both nodded. A silent agreement between us. “Meet us in the attic!” I heard him run off again down the hall, but didn’t see him because I was already on my way to Emmit’s room.

I threw open the door, and he was lying there, crying. ‘Looks like you figured it out already, maybe you are smart for your age.’ I ran to the crib, and looked in. He looked back. I picked him up, and headed for the stairs. The sound of rushing water was louder now, booming. Up the stairs, and down the hall. Emmit crying all the while. At the end of the hall, the collapsible staircase leading to the attic was down, waiting for my arrival. I got up them quickly, and closed them behind me. Amidst the boxes of old photos, and toys, and pounds upon pounds of dust, I saw Mom, with Dad crouched down next to her. He was trying to calm her down. She saw me, and shot up.

“Chris! Emmit! Thank God you two are alright!” She embraced both of us, and squeezed. “I don’t know what I would have done without you!” It was then that she noticed Emmit crying. She let go, and snatched him out of my arms. “Emmit! Are you ok?” She was frantic.

“Mary! Calm down! Nothing’s happened yet.” Dad said, trying unsuccessfully to sooth her.

“Yet is exactly right! Can’t you hear the water? It’s coming!” Dad looked at me, desperate.

I took Emmit out of her hands, and rocked him back and forth. He was still crying, and I had to get him to stop. For his sake, and for Mom’s.

“There, there Emmit. It’s ok.” I made a face. His face. It always quieted him, so it had to work. The crying continued. I tried again, this time a different one. He cried on. You’d think he’d pass out, screaming that loud. I tried for another minute, the noise of rushing water growing louder every second. It was close. Very close. We all stood there, listening. Emmit couldn’t be heard anymore. He was drowned out by the thunderous wave rolling towards us.

“Get on the roof, it will be safer there!” Dad had to shout, even though he was standing right next to us. We followed him to the farthest part of the attic, where the window was. He struggled to open it. The wind was blowing hard. He got it open, and we were met with a gust of freezing air. The rain poured in and hit me. It felt like a wall of tiny needles being thrown against my body. “Come on!” He helped us , before climbing out himself. Luckily, our roof was fairly flat, and shingled. The only hard part was staying on in the strong winds, while holding Emmit. We all scrambled to the center of the roof, and huddled down. The sound was deafening. Mom screamed. She was pointing behind me. I turned around slowly, already knowing what was there. The water was coming in one big wave. It wasn’t as tall as I imagined, but it still reached the roof. And that much water going that fast could easily rip the house to shreds. It was coming towards us, following the street. I stood there watching as it tackled house after house. It was three doors down now, at the Parker’s house. I couldn’t help it. I screamed.

“Hold on!” I braced myself. Just a few more seconds. I closed my eyes, waiting for it. I listened to it smash into the two last houses before ours. Crash! Crash! The sounds were almost simultaneous. I peeked one eye open slightly, just in time to see the wave collide. It slammed the house with so much force I lost my footing. My eyes shot open. I was stumbling down the roof towards the water. I was still holding Emmit. Dad grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me up. A loud snap, and the corner of the roof farthest from us sagged. Aside from the sound of the water, we stood in silence. Even Emit had stopped crying. There was a large groan, another snap, and the roof where we were standing started sinking. We ran to the very edge of the house, but it was too late. Another loud crack and the house came crashing down.

Reviews

[Drew Wade]

hey, I just finished reading this for the contest, and thought I'd write you a little review to tell you some thoughts. I liked it. Your narration was charming, really strong and observant, and witty.. Your use of description was also great. I thought this worked really good as a chapter or the beginning of a story, but I have to tell you, I was unsatisfied at the end because it left me hanging, and didn't seem to have a resolution. that's the kind of thing you really want in a chapter, so that's why I say it would be very good as a chapter. anyway, I liked it. i am still reading all the submissions, and don't know how long it will take me, though.

[Marie]

Whoa, held my attention and had me at the edge of my seat. Great job!

[Brad Windhauser]

Mostly strong point of view (bad flood but narrator was bored), though would a teenager ask his father when the rain was going to stop? He seemed to be complaining/whining moreso than asking if his father knew the answer. Couple confusing parts: why would the mother be worried they were not all right when narrator and baby arrive in the attic? Aren't they all in the same house? As far as the tsunami wave, what caused it? We get no sense the house is in some coastal community. Why end where you do? Other than that, I like some of your scenes, especially the Monpoly with his brother.