shore. I ran on, because I was already running. And maybe because something deep inside me knew already that this wave was not just slightly out of the ordinary. The fist slammed into the dancing teenagers, burying them instantly.
There was no struggle or cry. Just alive, and then dead. I cried out, still running. Tears flooded my eyes, but I kept running.
The Shompen boy sprinted ahead, barefoot, treading the ground. I followed. Spray from the wave spattered my neck. Stones too.
It was sending out messages. I am coming for you, little boy. Your little legs are not strong enough to Why did the Shompen boy wave the pouch at the narrator? outrun me.
. There was a hill ahead. Small and rough, dotted with neem trees like arrows in a pig’s back. The money thief ran towards the summit.
So, did I. There was foam at my ankles. Noise buffeting me like a giant wind. Water now.
Up to my knees. Fresh and salty. Not clear though. The Shompen scaled a giant tree, right at the summit.
He went up like an animal, fast and sure- footed. I tried to follow, tried to copy, but I am no Shompen. Our tribe have forgotten how to live in the trees. My feet slipped on the rough bark, my fingernails tore and bled.
Crying, I turned to face the water and was amazed at the ruin behind me. The wave had all but eaten the coastline and was flowing on towards the village. It was trying to scale the hill too, rolling its way towards me... .
The wave would make it, I thought. It would flick up a finger and dislodge me from my perch. Then on to my village. Maybe the entire island.
What was happening to the Earth? Then, to my relief I saw that the wave was dipping. My feet were clear of the water. For several seconds, I sobbed in selfish relief, before I realised that my family were probably not so lucky.
This brought on a second round of sobs. I ran to