bedtime stories

Itiawa and the Tsunami

Itiawa lived in a non-eventful place. Nothing ever really happened there. Everyday she would tend to her mother, who had been diagnosed with an unknown sickness, that sentenced her to her death last year. She would clean her body and bring her food and drink from the small river north of their little house. Then Itiawa would walk along the the little stream towards the cliffs, where the stream would fall into the ocean, at the bottom of the village's cliff.

The Death Cliff was what the villagers called it. A few people in the past had fallen off, one of them which Itiawa had witnessed. The cliff had a long drop into the ocean below, where jagged rocks would 'slice your skin into splintered debris-looking chunks' as her mother put it.

The next day Itiawa, who in fact liked to be called Awa, woke up in the midst of the night, to a loud roaring, crashing sound.

Awa awoke and tied her long hair up quickly, in fear she would miss the noise and it would blow over. She tiptoed out of her and her mother's little house quietly, not disturbing anyone in the village.

She followed the noise to find herself at the edge of Death Cliff, looking over and down the side.

Tall, booming, crashing waves flung themselves forcefully against the cliff as one big power.

Awa had heard about this from a local teacher, a Tsunami. Awa had asked when one was coming, but the teacher had answered vaguely by saying, 'one just won't come here' and so Awa had left the class angrily, lacking information.

Tsunami's were a booming rage of waves that reached a deafening height and were destroyers of everything in their way.

Awa understood the teacher's answer now.

The cliff was too tall for the waves. Although higher than they have ever been before, the waves could still not reach Awa and the village. Awa towered tall, proud that her village had picked a great spot to rest for the rest of their years.

She sat down, and watched happily taking in the waves momentum and speed they were rocking at. She noiticed how every time the wave rocked into the cliff, a sprinkle of dust, golden looking particles fell down in rough clumps. She watched as every time, more particles, until the waves died down and the tide went out, revealed a staircase enveloped in the cliff, carved out by the waves. Awa rushed down to the staircase entrance and stepped down each small step carefully, though it was all stable.

Once she had finished being careful she ran down the stairs happily and excitedly, ready for something new and cool to show. She found shells littered over the clumps of gold that were now split into tiny little grains. She had discovered something new, something the waves had made. The cliff was replaced by the smooth material, a long flat ground.

Awa smiled, something eventful had happened and she had discovered it.