Show-n-telle: 2010

Here's the latest story Braunte' wrote for the Reflections Contest. I wish she would have had more time...this is her first draft. She found out the night before it was due that there was a 2,000 word limit so the ending got cut short. All in all it's still a fun read.

Lítla Dímun, by Braunté Anderson

The Sky the color of sickness, of mourning
Worms fill the street
The lives of many taken
My eyes fill with tears and rain as I look over the damage
I can feel the wind nipping at my skin
The sting of each step on the cold cement
My ears are still ringing from the thunder that seems to shake the earth
Everyone is hiding, but not me
I run in fear
Searching for my father, who is lost at sea

My name is Assyria. I was named after an old Roman city. My father loves ruins and travels to find new discoveries every year. Most of the time I stay at home with my mother and my younger sister Ephesus. Ephesus is 5 and probably the most annoying sister in all of North America. You’re most likely wondering how in the world this could possibly relate to my story. Well it all started on April 15th, right after school…..
I walked in the front door and Ephesus came running up to me.
“Assyria, Assyria, “she sang to the melody of “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow”, her favorite song.
“What Ephesus?” I said, plopping down on the couch.
“Will you play with me now?” she asked.
“No Ephesus. I have homework.” That’s when the trouble began.
“Mooooom,” Ephesus wailed at the top of her lungs. Just as she stopped yelling my father happened to walk in.
“Daddy!“ Ephesus yelled as she charged towards him. That was the night I got out of trouble and dived in again. What my father said next was about to change everything.
Later that night we were discussing my father’s next trip, the trip he wanted me to go on. Of course my mother was being overly protective and stubborn, or at least at that moment I thought she was being so. She didn’t want me to go to the British Isles. But yet, for 10th grade she wants me to be an exchange student in Germany. She only didn’t want me to go because we would be right by an ocean. “Oceans are too dangerous. You could get lost at sea or worse.” She told me over and over again. Well my father is Amazing! He totally got her to agree it would be a good learning experience and that he needed some sort of company. So there I was off to the British Isles….as soon as school ended in a month and a half. Well school, let’s get you over with as fast as possible.

I was in the British Isles, in a taxi on my way to London. Everyone was talking in a funny accent. When we first arrived at the airport everyone was running around, well not running but speed walking, and asking each other questions like this. “are the exit doors over there? It was so confusing just watching the people let alone trying to find the doors. Eventually we found them upstairs on the southeast wall. Calling a taxi wasn’t that hard, but it would be easier in New York. I suppose London was a nice place. It still had cobble sidewalks and streets. Most of the buildings were very old. My dad loved them. We looked at a ton of museums. I must admit it was horribly boring. I tried very hard to look interested, just for my dad. I had no idea why my dad went to London for his business trip. Why would there be ruins in London? I didn’t really understand until he told me he was going to Lítla Dímun.
Lítla Dímun is a small uninhabited island. It is part of Faroe Islands. This island is between the Norwegian Sea and the Atlantic Ocean. If you look at pictures of Lítla Dímun you will see mist surrounding the tippy top of the island. The cliffs are steep and only sheep are able to climb the sheer cliffs without ropes to hold them. The top of Lítla Dímun is flat and is easier to walk on than the cliffs below.
My father thinks there are ruins hidden in the cliffs. Cliff dwellings as he calls them. My father’s plan was to leave me at the condo we rented, with a book while he went exploring. I argued with him for a long time. Finally he reminded me he was the reason I was here in the first place and I had to do as he said.
The next morning he set out, leaving me with a new book, promising to return by 5:00 that evening. I sat around a while and read. Around noon I finished my book with my lunch. There was a swimming pool in the yard, but no one was swimming. I put on my bathing suit and stepped in to the pool. It was freezing! The day was warm but had cool winds constantly coming through the city. The water made the day seem colder and droopier than it already was. I was just running a warm bath when rain came pouring down. The rain drops were the size of my fist! I thought of my father on a cliff, hanging there, trying to climb, slipping and drenched. Suddenly falling, only held by a rope that could snap at any moment. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating.
The electricity went out. I looked at my watch. It was 6:15 p.m. An hour and 15 minutes past 5:00. Now I was truly scared. Where was my father? I had to get help, and fast.
Beatrice was a 62 year old woman whose room was across the hall. Beatrice is American, but has been in the British Isles for 3 months visiting her sister. She was the first person I decided to talk to. She knew the land well enough to direct me to anywhere 50 miles from our condo. Beatrice was a taxi driver in New York for 20 years. She was definitely a good candidate. I walked across the hall at a brisk pace. Luckily she answered the door carrying a plate of chocolate chip cookies. She must have seen the look of panic on my face because she said, “Assyria, what’s wrong?” in a very serious tone. She invited me in and sat me on a cushy couch. “Now tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice was soothing it made me feel exhausted . Choking back a sob I told her everything from the beginning. I started with the day my father told me about this trip. She was sympathetic and hugged me toward her. She spoke to me in a soft voice telling me it would be ok. She explained to me she had friends here that could help us. After a cold cup of milk and a chocolate chip cookie we set out to find my father.
The first place we stopped was at the front desk. Beatrice asked for someone by the name of Albert Green. Albert was a professional swimmer and could do a wonderful job swimming in the ocean if he needed to act as life guard. When Albert came out you could tell he was a swimmer. He was tall, skinny, and had tons of muscles. His hair was a dark brown matching his eyes. He was actually very handsome.
Beatrice talked to him for a while until he agreed to come. Albert left with us and suggested we stop at the dock and head out. Beatrice agreed, but before we reached the dock she stopped at a small shack. Being as curious as I am I peeked inside. It was dark but my eyes soon adjusted trying to soak in everything. There were maps on every wall in such details you couldn’t read anything without a magnifying glass. There were sea shells of all shapes and colors and random things like glass scattered around. At last my eyes reached the far wall seeing an old man dressed like a captain. He was hunched over doing a jig-saw puzzle. Why would you do a puzzle when you have the most interesting things around you?’
Beatrice snuck up behind him. I watched him carefully, as if I was afraid he would explode. Beatrice slowly turned on the light. So slowly you could see her pupils get smaller. When the light was fully on, the old man turned around letting out a sigh as he did so.
“Tommy, I need your help.” Beatrice said in a low tone.
“Does it include a boat?” he rasped.
“Yes.” Beatrice replied.
“Then I won’t do it.” Tommy turned.
Beatrice whispered in his ear, making it unable for me to hear. Tommy grumbled for a few minutes then said loud enough for the rest of us to hear, “Okay, fine, but I need a crew.” We helped him push a very old boat out to the dock. I found out Tommy’s full name. It was Tommy L. Green. He is Albert’s father! He was once a sailor but lost sight in one eye. So now he sits in his boat house doing puzzles. To tell you the truth, Albert and Tommy don’t look at all alike.
It was about 7:30 when we finally set out. It had stopped pouring rain. It should have only been a 30 minute boat ride, yet it took a half an hour more because a thick fog set in. It started to hail and it was only August! It really shouldn’t hail in August, it’s summer time! I was worried we were going to sink because it was so old. Hope was dwindling. Tommy began to chant to himself, “Together we can make it. Together we can save her father.”
It made me think of the book that says, “I think I can, I think I can.” It seemed to calm everyone a little bit, enough to get us focused. My job was making dinner which turned into spaghetti and a piece of hard bread. Around 8:30 p.m. everyone was getting sleepy. We were just about to turn in for the night as the fog lifted. Albert spotted Lítla Dímun and it looked exactly as I imagined it. Even with the clouds at the tippy top. We sailed around it hiding under large overhangs so not to allow the hail to break the sails. After searching I spotted stairs, big rock stairs, hidden in a crevice. Amazed we started climbing. At last we reached the top. There was a small village and lots of sheep. One family took us in and gave us somewhere to sleep. Everyone slept, except for me.
The hail mixed with rain started coming down harder. I got out of bed and started to pace. Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. I burst out into the street, letting the tears run freely. It was amazing what damage the hail storm did. Branches ruptured through rooftops, windmills bent in odd ways, glass, paper, and animal carcasses littered the streets. There was no one in sight.
I climbed up the mountain two miles, searching for anything. About 2.5 miles away from the town my eyes caught sight of some logs stuck in between two rocks, creating a shelter. With hope I looked inside. There, curled in a ball lay my father.
That was a year ago. Now, thanks to my new friends, we are safe at home once more. I couldn’t have done it alone. Together we accomplished something unbelievable. People still don’t believe my story, but in my heart and mind there will always be Lítla Dímun.