Isobel’s (8G) entry for the BBC Radio 2 – 500 Words story competition was one of just 5,000 from 135,000 to get through to the second round. Unfortunately she has not got through to the final 50 but we are so proud of her achievement. Isobel’s fantastic entry is below:
‘Do you miss the stars?’ asked Fraser.
‘Sometimes. Why?’
‘Well, we can’t see them anymore. There’s too much in the way.’
I suppose I should explain. Eleven years ago, the rain just…stopped. Not falling, it kept falling, but not until it hit the ground. Everywhere you went, the water was only six meters above you. The scientists of the world were shocked. At first, they thought it must be an issue with gravity, but nothing else was floating, so that idea was dropped. Eventually, they left it alone, and just ignored it.
Nasa stopped making satellites, and started making lighthouses out of glass so you could actually be in the water. Nobody wanted space travel anymore, because Earth was unique.
But if the rain does start to fall, it will drown the Earth. We have no working space vehicles, nowhere high enough to run to, no planes or helicopters, because they’re no longer needed.
There’ll be no escape.
It’s a constant worry, hanging above our heads, and the water can’t go up into space, and we don’t want it to fall down. We just have to accept that we are trapped.
On the hillside, Fraser and I were discussing what we could remember about constellations.
‘The big dipper!’
‘And Orion, you know the one like a man and a sword?’
‘What about the milky way?’ I asked.
‘It had streaks and splashes of colour and dots of light. It was so beautiful, you can’t begin to imagine it.’
I looked at him. He had his eyes closed, an expression of bliss on his face from being able to escape this world.
‘You would have made an excellent astronaut.’ I said softly.
‘Thanks.’ He smiled, then his expression changed to puzzlement.
‘Did you feel that?’
‘What?’
He looked up.
‘Nothing.’
‘Ok then.’
We got up, and started to roll down the grassy hill, side by side, laughing. But Fraser still looked troubled. He kept looking up at the sky, at the rippling expanse above him. I wanted to ask him why he was worried, to tell him that it would all be ok, but we were having such a good time and I didn’t want to spoil it with omens and such.
However, my curiosity got the better of me, and eventually I started to ask, again and again until he relented.
‘I felt a drop of water on my arm.’
I was confused.
‘But there’s no sprinkler anywhere near us, and I didn’t spit on you or something like that.’
‘Exactly.’ He almost whispered.
‘You don’t think…’I glanced up at the sky.
‘Yes. Maybe. Do you see why I didn’t want to tell you? You always worry about it.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, ok. But it can’t be. We’d know. There’d be warnings sent out, evacuations. Wouldn’t there?’
He didn’t answer, which I guess was an answer in itself.
Then I felt it too.
The heavens split open, and the sky poured down.