Intermediate Short Story - First Place

The South Simcoe Arts Council has been shining a spotlight on up and coming writers of all ages, in all genres through its Creative Works Writing Contest since 2016.

We are excited to share the winners writings with you. Enjoy!

This award is sponsored by
John Williams.

The Indonesian Tsunami

"Mom!!!" I screamed, as water rushed into our small apartment. I sputtered and coughed, searching frantically.

"Mom!!!" I choked. "Divya, baby," her big, brown eyes looked into mine, as the waves poured. She was tossed into the door, and each time she came up for air the waves pushed her under. I cried for her again, but a gush of water pounded me into the wall, breaking it down. "Mom..."

I woke up sweating, tears dripping down my face. I looked around, trying to remember where I was. I looked around the damp, musty tent, and in the dark I could make out dozens of bodies around me.

I clambered out of the sleeping bag and felt the cold grass tickle my feet. When I was outside I snuck around the back to the old Indian rosewood and reached up to the lowest branch and hauled myself up. I sat there for hours, gazing towards the distant line in the horizon, where the sky met the sea.

When the sun came up I scampered down and went back to the beat up old tent. A couple moments later, the volunteers came and gave us food. It was weird food, white people food. They spoke Hindi to us, but it was different. They were kind, they fed us, gave us water, and took care of us.

I never spoke or made eye contact. I was alone in the world, with no one to look after me.

Four years ago my father and brother died in a car accident on my tenth birthday. They were going to pick up a cake while I was still in bed. After that day it was only me and my mother. And now, all my family was gone, and that was all I said to our caretakers.

After months in the old tent I started to open up with the ladies, I learned all their names, and talked to them, making friendships little by little. They even taught me English. I grew especially fond of one named Lizzy. She was the youngest there, only sixteen. We shared stories, and she eventually got me to open up about my family. She was like the older sister I never had.

I woke up one day to the sun shining in the crack where the battered edges of the tents met the rugged grounds. A middle aged woman named Maria came to me and gave me a hot bowl of soup. She told me to come out once I was done. I sat in the tent alone, quietly blowing on the steaming hot meal. The steam from the bowl wafted up to my nose and I remembered the soup my mom used to make me. Before I could stop them, the tears started soundlessly rolling down my cheeks. I sat there for ten minutes, as the big bowl of soup cooled.

I finally went outside, making sure my eyes weren't red from crying. All the women were outside, waiting for me. Lizzy came up to me.

"Divya," she said. "I know this is not easy for you, but everyone else in this tent has left. They've either found their family or moved on, or..." she said this with a heavy heart. "Or we've put them in an orphanage or foster home. I convinced the other women not to send you to one yet, I had hope. But after six months, we need to go back to Canada. We need to send you to an orphanage, until you're adopted."

Lizzy held me close, as we both held back tears.

"It'll be alright. We can send letters, and you'll make several new friends," Lizzy said when she came to talk to me later." One day you might even get adopted into a sweet family who loves you." I had let my heart out to her, and now she was deserting me, like I was an old, used toy. Every kid in the tent had either found their family or had been brought to the orphanages. I knew that I was the only one still here because of Lizzy. I knew my mom wouldn't come back for me.

The next morning Lizzy and I were about to go down to the orphanage, when we heard a faint rustle in the bushes. Out popped a frazzled looking woman.

"Divya?" she asked. "Mom!" I replied. Tears streamed from our eyes as we embraced.

"Divya," she said over and over. "It's okay. I'm here now."