The Flood- Undergoing Some Editing And Stuff

Surviving Is Just The Begining

It was storming out, hard. It's been like this for the whole day. Raining, lightning, thunder. I feel that the gods are mad at us. Did we not do something right? Did someone speak badly about the sea god? Did we not offer enough? Sacrifice enough?

The rain gets worse by the minute, my parents aren't home yet. I wonder if I will see them soon, or if this storm will keep them away. I am home, by myself, wondering what is to come of my island. The rumored birthplace of the Goddess of the sea, Pacifica, Carcerem.

I walk around our shabby house, noticing the gray, cinder block walls, the wooden door that leaks water through the house, the two windows that we have. My room has a bed big enough to sleep on, a few drawers of clothing, and a mirror. I look at my reflection, seeing stormy grey-blue eyes, golden brown hair, semi-curvy structure, chubby cheeks I never quite lost growing up, fairly straight jawline, five foot eight hight, and the weird birthmark on my right collarbone area. It was a shade lighter than my bronzed skin, making it blend in but stand out at the same time.

I never loved the way I looked, but I'm human and I have my insecurities. I teach myself how to do things with some small help from my parents. How to read, write, draw, hunt, cook. Everything, because my island didn't have a school close by. My island was now being submerged in rain.

Every half hour, the water would rise, higher and higher. At first I thought it was just a storm and it would pass. But now as I look outside, I realize that my home is being flooded. The houses are being consumed by the rising water, one by one. Now I am up on my roof, getting drenched, for fear of also being consumed by the water. I have my vizsla puppy that I got a few weeks ago. She is about a year old and is a milk chocolate brown color. I named her Nutmeg because that's what she looked like, a Nutmeg. Now, either my parents have found safety or they have drowned.

I shuddered at the thought. I loved them, but at the same time, I felt a distance between us. I'm pretty sure that I wasn't supposed to happen. Or, just another theory, I'm not actually theirs. I don't look like my mother at all, though I look like I could possibly be related to my dad. And on top of that I have ADD, and migraines at least once every week, two weeks at the most if I'm lucky. It's not even my fault, but they treat me okay so I'm fine.

The water keeps rising, higher and higher. It has reached the beginning of the roof now. I'm afraid that the water will come up and consume me and my new pup. This flood has probably wiped out half of my village by now. How I have been calm enough to get this far, it is a mystery to me. Maybe it is the urge to survive that has kept me calm enough to think.

The water slowly creeps up, closer and closer until I am forced to scoot away. I have packed a ratty and tattered backpack with three changes of clothes, a flint and steel, one of dad's knivesfes, and some food.

Once on the roof, I realized that I was going to have to use it (what is 'it'?)as a floating device. I quickly unscrewed some of the metal panels from the rest and took the wood from under them too. I put together a small four by four raft to hold on to. Just in time too. The water has risen up to where I was and kept rising, slowly engulfing my sandals, then my calves, slowly up to my thighs. I let out a whimper. Now my waist. I put the makeshift raft on the water and hoisted myself and Nutmeg onto it. I held onto her, keeping her close to my chest. The rain proceeded to slow down. Not stop, but slow to a hazy drizzle. I could see the topmost branches of trees, but no houses had survived. All of them were one story houses, and I couldn't see a single rooftop.

But then something caught my eye. It was a shimmer down below the surface. When I looked down I thought I saw something move. But it never moved again if there was anything was down there. About a half hour passed and I found a tree to hook up to. We were now anchored safely and just had to wait. I saw that glimmer again. This time when I looked down, I thought I saw a piece of metal.

I blinked and it was gone. Not even an hour and I'm already hallucinating.

I spent the next two and a half days conserving what food I had and waiting, waiting for the water to recede. It took two and a half days of waiting, being bored, wondering if there was anyone out there left.

On the third day, I was able to get off my raft and walk on the mushy, wet ground. I saw were I was. I was at the place where my parents worked. What a cruel world this was. This was the saw mill, and on the other side of what was a dirt road, stood the ruins of a glass shop/maker. My mom worked with glass her entire life and my dad had found himself useful with wood. I walked between the rubble of what was my parents work places. Nutmeg trailed behind me, eager to stay by my side.

I walked on, searching for any surviving berry bush. I had walked for a while, until I saw the fruit of a boysenberry bush. These were my favorite to have plain. They were a dark purple color and had multiple pod-like bumps on it, like a tight cluster of grapes but way smaller. They were on the edge of the forest. I picked a few ripe ones off and started to eat them. I ate until I was full, then forced Nutmeg to eat a little. She refused at first but then obeyed, seeing as she hadn't eaten much in the past few days either.

It was then, after I had lived through the flood, that I realized surviving was just the beginning to this whole train wreck. That's when I filled with the anxiety that had built up. It overwhelmed my senses and I ended up sitting down, curled up in a ball. I felt like a force was clamping down on my windpipe, suffocating me. I breathed heavily, a whine coming out every time I exhaled. My eyes darted back and forth, never lingering in one spot for more than a second. The world went blurry for a minute as I felt the tears slip away involuntarily, seeing everything and nothing all at once.

I later regained myself, came back to the present, took some deep, slow breaths, and saw that Nutmeg was pressed up against me the whole time, apparently seeing my need for comfort. The tears didn't go away, but I wasn't sobbing. There was no noise, just tears.

I found some wood, leaves, and a dryer area to set up a shelter. I constructed a rickety shack like structure and preceded to fall asleep on the bed I made of leaves.

I hope you guys know that I have never experienced a panic attack in my thirteen years of living so don't judge me if I'm not completely right or just totally wrong. If you have any suggestions as to how I should re-write that scene, the please inform me of what I got wrong. Not asking for stories, but if you want to get something off your cheast, I'm always here and always listening.