By: Alice Su
Drip, drop. Drip, drop. Rainwater slid down the jewel like leaves and dripped into the woven baskets placed outside Helena’s tent. The morning mist caressed Helena as if the world itself blew a cool breath onto her face. Though light had only just begun to kiss the gray skies, the entire village of Sangolyam was already awake. There was no sound other than the rustling of fabric and pad of sandals on the jungle floor. Even the birds sensed their doom and lacked the will to sing.
Helena turned around and saw mothers hiding their creased brows beneath gentle smiles as they hushed and ushered their children to assist in the dismantling of the camp and fathers burying their distress under the large wooden canoes and bundles of food and water that they hauled over their shoulders.
Today was the day of evacuation. It was a morning crisp and cold, far colder than the usual humid climate of Sangolyam. The mist rose up like a silver blanket over Helena’s camp. The soil was plush and damp, cushioning Helena’s steps. The trees, the grass, the ivy, and the moss all shone like slivers of brilliant, blindingly bright jade; greener, fresher, and sharper than ever after the night’s cleansing rain. These were the mornings Helena cherished the most, and she couldn’t bear the thought of knowing that this would be the last Sangolyam morning she would witness.
Oh, she would miss running her palm along with the smooth, gliding, surface of a jungle leaf, the invigorating rush of sweetness that filled her lungs with each breath of the honey-like sunset, the rushing of the river beneath her hand, weaving through her fingers like a thread through a loom, each strand fast and fierce, flying towards the glittering ocean beyond. An ocean that was about to-
A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. Helena’s fingers stilled on the rope she was tethering, its rough surface scraping the calluses on her fingers. The whole camp stopped in its tracks.
The chief leader said something. Another rumble sounded, and Helana’s stomach dropped as she realized that the rumble was not that of thunder but of water.
The rumbling shook to a roar, and screams sounded as the trees trembled and the earth seemed to shudder. Then Helana saw it. Rising high over the treetops, blotting out the alabaster sky and casting darkness over the island, stood an immense wall of water, so, so, so much bigger than anything Helena had imagined. Greater than a mountain, it towered, looming over the clouds like a colossal fortress of deep, dark, depthless blue that thrashed and writhed like serpents to a lute.
It was as if the world slowed to a stop as the wave crested. Villagers just stood there, still as woolen dolls, with pure and unmasked fear in their eyes and all over their faces. The chief was giving orders in earnest now, but the words were a distant noise in comparison to the deafening presence of the water. But the chief’s voice rose to a shout - something Helena had never before heard him do.
“We will face this together!” His voice soared up over the boom of the water and up over Helena’s fear. “We are one! We will survive with unity! We will survive! Survive! Survive! Survive!” The chant broke across the camp as they stood to face the daunting blue sea.
The chant kept going as the wave crashed over the island, water lashing them like a whip, again, and again, and again. Though the voices faded, the words remained in Helena’s head. Survive. Survive. Survive. Even as the water had engulfed her in a choking hold of azure, torrents of water strangled and crushed her. Even as her lungs screamed for air the words echoed in her head, each a promise, a will, an order to survive. As she felt darkness embrace her, Helena felt them echo into the sky and the stars: I will survive.