The Calm After the Storm

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The Calm After the Storm

I don’t know whether one could call my life a disaster, or a series of miracles. I have seen tragedies that you think only happen in newspapers or novels, yet I have also seen what comes out the other side and that it is way above average human morals. I am proud to have lived amongst such strong and determined individuals whom I hope will teach others to follow in their footsteps.

Of all my childhood memories, one sticks out to have affected me most. I can remember the look of deep fear on my mother’s weary face. I wanted to reach out and have her hold me close to her, but I knew that I was no safer with her than in the arms of Edith, my oldest sister under the dining room table. I could hear the huge rip and then crash of the monster waves beating against the side of our house. I had heard of the huge storms years ago before I was born, but they hadn’t become real until now. Suddenly, there was the splintering smash of shattering glass and cold salt water hit me in the face. I was sick on Edith but she didn’t have time to care as she ran frantically around the swamped house looking for something to barricade the broken windows with.

I must have passed out after that because the next thing I remember is waking up alone in Uncle George’s barn. I brushed the scratchy straw from my salty clothes while I could hear my baby sister Clara crying from the house. As I entered the cottage kitchen Aunt Francis had a bowel brimming with steaming porridge. So as to not offend her I gulped it down quickly while she gave Clara her bottle. I then asked her about the previous night. She explained to me how the waves had destroyed our home. Half the village was living in ruins now, all because a cement factory dredged our beach of all its shingle. I couldn’t quite understand how this made the waves eat up our village at the age of six but now I realise that the lack of shingle on the beach meant there was nothing between the sea’s storms and our small village below the cliff edge.

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Aunt Francis told me that the family would need my help sorting what was salvageable or not from what was left of our house. I was dumbfounded by what yesterday was my home. Shattered glass mosiaced the floor and the whole front of the house had been swallowed by the sea. The thatched roof had collapsed in half and now made a V-Shape inside my mother’s bedroom, which was quite visible considering the absence of the wall.

Mother set me to work by the stove. As I tried to light it I heard her and Uncle George ...

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