Final Story- Expansion of Catastrophic Event

The tides are his breath
Falling, rising,
The old man of the sea

For ages he sleeps,
Calmly,
As the young say to themselves,
Look, we have tamed the sea.

Then one day
His breath is disturbed,
He shakes his old crusty head
Rises with a roar,
Reaching out
to crush
those who once laughed.

They look up, and see death
glinting in his eyes.

I stretched lazily, watching as the sun sent golden bars through the cracks in the shutter of the ornately decorated windows of the bedroom. A light breeze fluttered the gauze curtains, bringing in the calls of strange birds and a slight tang of salt. I glanced lovingly at the head of ruffled brown hair that was lying on the pillow besides me and smiled to myself. I shook him slightly, marveling as my new ring caught the light and sent small brightly colored flecks of light dancing across the room.
“Time to get up, Jake,” I whispered into is ear. I rolled out of bed slipped my feet into the little house slippers that my cousin had left for us as he wiggled half heartedly. I walked around the bed and gave Jake an extra shake before yanking off his covers.
“Come on, sleepyhead, I think its almost noon.” I laughed as he curled up in protest before leaning over to kiss his head. “I hope you slept well. I love you.”
I wandered out of the bedroom and set out to explore the rest of the villa. We had arrived last night and hadn’t worried about much other than finding the bed, so I was surprised at just how lovely the villa we were in was. The floors and furniture were all a polished, matching dark wood and the walls were simple and whitewashed, but were hung with colorful draperies and small oriental pictures.
I opened the rooms tall windows and took a moment to admire the view. Through the windows there was a clear view of a white beach and strands of palm trees. I watched in amazement as brightly colored birds darted by, sending out bird calls that sounded strange and exotic to my ears. I was watching the waves crash over the sand when my husband, my husband! finally got out of bed. I heard him walk across the room and leaned into his embrace when he stood behind me, his head resting on mine as he gazed out at the water.
“Don’t you think this place is amazing?” He asked me after a few moments of reflective silence.
“It really is. We are so lucky that Matt said we could housesit for him, I never would have dreamed of having my honeymoon in Thailand! This is so exciting, there is so much to do and to see, I just can’t believe it!”
“Mhmmm. We are lucky. Especially to be together.” He spun me around and rested his hands on my shoulders before his face wrinkled in thought. “Now, how is Matt related to yo- us again?”
I giggled at his confusion about his newly acquired relations. “He is my dad’s cousin. Aunt Lisa’s son, Nate’s brother, remember?” He nodded, even though the look in his eyes told me that he really had no idea who I was talking about. “But that isn’t really important, is it?” I whispered as he pulled me closer and closed the window.
Later that afternoon we walked along the beach, watching the playful waves wash seashells across the white sand. Jake and I held hands and talked about my graduate school prospects and his new job, and where we wanted to live and how we would spend our time once we got home. I was so excited to finally have someone to share my life with, and I knew that this man walking beside me was my perfect fit. I felt a warm glow filling me every time I glanced over at my husband! I was sure the novelty of that thought would wear off soon, but for now every time I thought the words “my husband” a silly grin split my face in two.
That night we watched the stars swirl overhead and talked about what we wanted to do for the rest of our honeymoon, like scuba diving and exploring the nearby village and bird watching. We decided to start our adventure off the next morning with a picnic breakfast at sunrise.
So we got up early and set out for a small cove that we saw on the map. We got there in plenty of time, and sunrise saw us leaning against the trunks of palm trees eating food out of a wicker hamper. Leaning against the smooth trunk of the palm tree I sleepily watched my ring glint in the early sunlight. I was only broken out of my reverie by an excited shout from Jake, who had gotten up and wandered a bit further down the beach.
“Look, Lisa! The water’s receding! Oh, would you look at that shell! Oh, and there is a sea star, that’s amazing!” I stood up, staring in confusion. The water, which had been lapping against the sand several feet away from where we were sitting had indeed disappeared to a distant blue sparkle several hundred yards away. A small warning was sounding in the back of my mind, but for what? Water receding, water receding, what did that mean? I mulled over it as Jake rushed from one wonder to another, further and further down the beach. Then it all snapped into place and I glanced up in horror.
“Jake!” I yelled, scrambling down the shore towards my husband, who was several hundred feet away down the shore. “Jake! Come back, we need to get out of here!” I stumbled on a slippery stone and hit my knee. “Jake! Water receding is a sign of a…” I lost my voice as I saw the water seem to take on a life of its own and rise up out of its normal place, towering over the small figure of my husband. “…tsunami,” I managed to choke out.
“Jake!”
It took a lifetime for him to turn and start running toward me. I was still frozen in shock when he caught my arm, pulling me roughly around as he sprinted up towards the trees. We hit the line of palms and kept running, but now we could hear the roar of the water behind us. I glanced back and yelled as Jake shoved me between a large rock and some palm trees just as the wall of water hit.
The water shook the trees and tore at my skin and my nose and throat. I was plastered against the tree in front of me, pushed by a crushing force so I could not move off of the tree in front of me. I was deafened by a thunderous roar accentuated by the sound of trees snapping and of someone screaming. I could not breathe, I could not think, the water was everywhere. Then the pounding crushing force was gone, but the water swept back towards the ocean, capturing anything that the first wave had broken and sweeping it back with it, plastering me against the rocks behind me. Desperately I felt it pulling me over the rock, towards the swallowing sea. Then with a jerk my leg was stuck and I felt it twisting, the water snapping my ankle like a child snaps a twig. The water’s pressure left me without the ability to move, so I could not double up, all I could do was endure. My head reeled from lack of oxygen as the world turned into the muddy brown current sweeping me away.
Eventually the pressure did lessen, and I crumpled as I gasped for breath. I was covered in brown muck and felt like every inch of me was bruised. Shakily I reached out, blindly, reeling from the shock of what had just happened. As I stretched out my hand it was caught by an equally shaky one of Jake’s. I looked over, relief filling my eyes as I saw his mud covered figure. He was moving as carefully as I was, which probably mean he was just as battered and bruised.
“W-we made it,” I gasped as I took a shaky step towards him, placing my feet carefully through the piles of debris that covered the ground. “You’re alive.” Somehow this felt like a miracle to me, that we had both managed to live through something this destructive. He put his arm protectively around my shoulder as I tried to put weight on my shattered ankle. I looked down and immediately wished I hadn’t, it was a torn and bloody mess.
“Yes, we are both fine. We are alright.” Jake gasped. He sounded short of breath, and he winced as I pressed against his chest. There were cuts across his face and his arms had been scraped raw against the rocks behind me.
After a short pause while we both reeled from the pain that momentarily blurred our vision we slowly started to pick our way back towards the house. I walked in a slow half limp while avoiding the piles of rubbish that were everywhere. Together, we crawled over piles of beach toys and rubber tires mixed with flopping fish and ruined nests. The beach behind us was brown and covered with window frame, broken branches and several bodies of unfortunate creatures who had not escaped the tsunami’s wrath. After what felt like an eternity we rounded the rocks close to the villa and stopped in shock. The house was gone. I had heard that expression before, when people said that buildings were just gone, but it never does the situation justice. The place that we were looking for to find sanctuary, a phone, food, our clothes, a bed, our very lives, had vanished. All that was left was the cement foundation and a couple of support beams standing into the sky like jagged teeth mocking us in a broken smile. We stood and stared for several minutes before turning to each other with the same question in our eyes, what do we do now? It was then that I learned something very important about tsunamis. There are always second waves.
This time I was only warned by the roar, and had time to turn around and stare at the monstrous wave towering above my head before I was swept away. I don’t remember much. There was nothing but the roar and the sickening pain as my body was flung against tree trunks and rocks. Eventually I hit something and stuck, plastered against some hard surface. I might have been swept back again when the tide turned, or I might have stayed there, hanging on for dear life, I don’t know. I do know that after an eternity the water was gone, but in its place fear drowned me. Without looking around I stumbled away from the beach. I fell, my twisted ankle was bleeding, swollen and purple and could not hold my weight. I couldn’t walk, so I crawled away, desperately, pulling myself over anything in my path, ripping my hands and knees on the debris that littered the ground. I kept going until the pain filled my mind and my vision and the entire world collapsed.
I remember hearing the wailing before I could open my eyes, and felt that that sound was echoing the madness in my soul. When I finally opened my eyes I was laying in the remains of the village. I don’t remember how I got there or how long I had been unconscious. I tried to sit up and ended up propped up on my elbow as dizziness threatened to send me back into oblivion. I looked around and was shocked. To my right and to my left was a line of bodies, hundreds of them. Some were moving feebly, trying to attract attention. Some had horribly mangled limbs and others were bleeding from cuts and battered wounds. They were all screaming. Slowly I felt my head reeling and this time I gave into the darkness and fell back to the ground.
I was awoken by a girl with water; I spit it out, it was muddy and tasted of salt. Later I felt a fire inside me, a fever that washed away everything, and I screamed for that water along with all the other bodies in the line. I screamed for help, screamed in pain, screamed out of thirst. But everyone I saw shook their heads. There was no one to help.
I didn’t know how long I lay in that line. Hours, days, they all seemed the same. Later I learned that it was two days. The fever made me hallucinate and I saw the people around me screaming with thirst and pain, saw them fall silent one by one, saw their feeble arms stop twitching and finally lie still. I saw the remains of the houses standing against the air like skeletons, drinking in the decay caused by the unattended dead. But maybe that wasn’t a dream.
I don’t know why I didn’t join the dead, slowly giving in to the thirst, why I didn’t stop moving and lie still. But I was alive, and the fever finally loosened its hold on me enough to let me crawl away. The woman next to me was rocking her baby, wailing miserably. The baby was thin and its head hung limp. I turned away and was sick in the spot I had been sitting.
I crawled away from the line of the dead and looked for the living. There were few frightened faces sitting in the remains of houses. Slowly I approached them, but they ran away. I looked down and didn’t blame them. I was covered in mud and, judging by the smell, sewage. My hands were barely starting to heal, they were still raw and bloody, as were my knees. But then my hunger hit. I had had nothing to eat since, since, since that breakfast on the beach. As I crawled I called out for food. But I saw more faces staring at me and shaking their heads. There is no food. The water has washed it all away.
As night fell I collapsed against the trunk of a palm tree. I stared through the spindly branches that were left, wondering how I had marveled at the trunks a few days ago, when the whole world looked so new. That was the first time I thought of Jake since the second wave. Jake! Where was he? Was he still alive? I thought of the long line of the dead in the village. No, he could not be alive. There were so many dead. I would be dead soon. I was too tired to even cry at the thought. Without food I could not live, the hunger inside me was eating me away.
The next day passed in a haze. I found a coconut and desperately tried to shell it with a rock. I managed to take three delicious bites out of the small chunk I pried out of the shell before another woman darted out from a building nearby. Yelling wildly she grabbed the precious food out of my hands, then gave me a sharp kick to my wounded ankle as I rose to challenge her. As I crumpled in pain she ran off, carrying the nourishing food with her.
Five days I lived in that hell, alternately searching desperately for food and lying in a feverish haze in the sewage and mud that covered everything. I knew the locals only from the occasional curse or cuff as I got to close to their huddled conferences. Soon enough I learned to stay away.
It was a week after the tsunami before any help came to that small village. It came in the form of a single truck, picking its way carefully through the jungle. In its bed were sacks of rice and first aid kits that the Thai aid workers threw to the dirty and hunger crazed people who swarmed the truck. I watched from the back of the crowd as they threw out bags of food before I clawed my way through the mob of locals, yelling desperately at the workers in the truck, “Help me, please help me!” They did not hear me, they did not look up, they finished throwing sacks and climbed back into the cab.
“Wait! I’m an American, help me, take me home, please!” I broke through the crowd and was pushed up against the window by those behind me still trying to find the food. I banged on the window, still yelling “American, American! Please take me home, please!”
The man in the truck looked at me and started gesturing and talking excitedly to his comrade, who peered intently out at me before rolling the window down the tiniest bit.
“American?” He asked in a heavy accent.
“Yes, yes,” I gasped. There was nothing else I could say. They conferred hurriedly for a few moments and then pulled the door open, letting me collapse onto the seat next to them. I huddled there as we drove over bumpy and nearly impassable roads, vaguely wondering where we were going. I was weaving in and out of conscious when the car finally stopped and the door opened, sending me sprawling out of the car. I tumbled into a pair of strong arms that led me inside, handing me a mug of broth and wiping my face with a damp cloth. I gazed up into a pair of clear blue eyes that were clouded with worry.
“I, I thought you were dead.” I whispered hoarsely to my husband. He shook his head, hugging me tightly and pressing my head to his bandaged chest.
“I was so worried when I couldn’t find you, sweetheart. I was so worried.” His voice broke and he stopped talking and simply held me close. When he eventually let me go I sat and sipped my broth in the aid station, safe again in my husband’s arms.

Afterward:

After spending three more days in the aid station during which my ankle was braced and Jake’s ribs were tended to we were on a plane back to the United States. After we were separated by the second tsunami Jake had made his way to an international aid station and had been frantic that I didn’t turn up. Even as they were tending to his broken ribs and battered body he was demanding that searches be made into the area we had been in. But due to lack of resources there was no such search made. Yet because he had been making such a fuss about the lost American woman in the area the men who found me had known to bring me back with them. I was a lucky one who managed to get out. After the tsunami the death toll skyrocketed as diseases caused by the unattended corpses and lack of sanitation resulted in hundreds of thousands of deaths. That is the true meaning of natural disaster.

Reading Journal # 10

I thought that Averno was set in the modern time period. This book is regretful, as if someone is trying to makes sense of a change or loss that they do not fully understand.
The narrator remains unnamed, but I think that she is a she. She seems to I think that she values understanding, but she cannot find it. She believes that the earth is unkind and jealous. At one point she points out that the way that Ceres only had one daughter when, as a goddess, she could have had thousands is analogous with the way that the earth could produce but doesn’t, as if it does not want to be fruitful but is unkind and jealously guards what is its. To two things, the way that Persephone ate the pomegranates of hell, sealing her fate as having to return to the underworld, yet at the same time it could refer to her rape. The author reconsiders something in the passage when she says “”You grew up, you were struck by lightning. When oyu opened your eyes you were wired forever to your true love… Unless the shock wasn’t deep enough. Then you weren’t vaccinated, you were addicted.” (24-25)It makes her book more real, as if a real person who is trying to understand the events in their life is thinking the thoughts expressed in the poem. After all, real people second guess themselves, especially when they are dealing with a deep emotional issue. Persephone is pictured as a child who has suffered and lost something and who is growing up to face the doubts and uncertainties of her past. In the second part she is pictured as an adult who has made choices and has to deal with understanding the ways that those choices have both effected her life and been perceived by others. She gave herself to her lover and has since discovered that that occurrence has been described as an abduction and a rape and she has to deal with this metamorphosis that she doesn’t fully understand. I was introduced to the idea of Persephone having feelings, possibly being regretful or possibly loving her husbands, but for the first time she was not mearly the object of the story, she was a player in it.

Writing Journal #8

Writing an imaginary piece about a real historical event has some strong problems. First, you have to know enough about the event to be able to portray the events realistically. It also makes it hard having the event be a recent one because people can actually remember the event and will know that you don’t know what you are talking about if you don’t. I have read historical fiction books before, but most of them were not about any events more current that 1912, and I don’t remember any of the author’s names. I think that books that are called autobiographical contain a lot of useful information about both current events and the cultural impacts of the events and the way that people react to such events. I think that all such depictions are merely descriptions of what people remember and must be read that way, but they are usually written fairly close to the events (in a historical perspective, within thirty years is very contemporary) and therefore they often have the best and most accurate information that we can find. Modern autobiographies can be seen in the same way, you see a side of what happened in a particular situation. You have to remember that there may be more sides to the situation because everyone remembers what makes them out to be the most involved and which puts them in the best light, so the more accounts of an event you read the better picture of it you will have if you are looking for a historical account. The writings on the walls were moving and it was interesting to be able to see the words of someone who had undergone awful things recorded on the walls. I chose to write about the event I did because I tried to write about three other events and couldn’t.

Catastrophic Event

The old man snoozes day and night,

His breath falling evenly, predictably.

Young people stand

And watch

And play games of the young near his shores,

Laughing,

As they say to themselves,

Look, we have tamed the old man of the sea.

Then one day he stirs,

His breath is disturbed.

He shakes his old crusty head

And rises with a roar,

Reaching out to crush the games of the young

And those who once laughed

See death glinting in his eyes.

I stretched lazily, watching the sun send golden bars through the cracks in the shutter on the ornately decorated windows of our beach front villa. The breeze that flowed in was warm and smelled of salt. I looked lovingly at the head of ruffled brown hair that was lying on the pillow besides me and smiled. I shook him slightly, marveling as my new ring caught the light and sent small brightly colored flecks of light dancing across the room.

“Time to get up, Jake,” I whispered into is ear. “Come on, sleepyhead, I think its almost noon.”

I kissed the top of his head and climbed out of bed as he wiggled half heartedly. I had not gotten to see the place properly last night, and I was amazed at the gorgeous little house. The floors and furniture were all polished teak and the walls were simple and whitewashed and hung with tasteful accents. I threw open a window in the living room and was standing watching the waves crash over a white, sandy beach that I could see past the palm trees that shaded the villa when my husband, my husband! finally got out of bed. I heard him walk across the room and leaned into his embrace when he stood behind me, his head resting on mine as he gazed out at the beach.

“Don’t you think this place is amazing?” He asked me after a few moments of reflective silence.

“It really is. We are so lucky that Matt said we could housesit for him, I never would have dreamed of having my honeymoon in Thailand!”

“Mhmmm. We are lucky.” He spun me around and rested his hands on my shoulders before his face wrinkled in thought. “Now, how is Matt related to yo- us again?”

I giggled at his confusion about his newly acquired relations. “He is my dad’s cousin. Aunt Lisa’s son, Nate’s brother, remember?” He nodded, even though the look in his eyes told me that he really had no idea who I was talking about. “But that isn’t really important, is it?” I whispered as he pulled me closer and closed the window.

Later that afternoon we walked along the beach, watching the bright blue waves washing delicate seashells across the white sand. The sunlight was dancing across the wave tops, leaving beautiful sun dazzled prints behind my eyelids. We held hands and talked about all the things we were going to do in our new life together. I felt a warm glow filling me every time I glanced over at, my husband! I was sure the novelty of that thought would wear off soon, but for now every time I thought the words “my husband” a silly grin split my face in two. That night we watched the stars swirl overhead and decided to get up the next morning for a picnic breakfast at sunrise.

So we got up early and set out for a small cove that we had seen in our previous explorations. We go there in plenty of time, and sunrise saw us leaning against the trunks of palm trees eating food out of a wicker hamper. Leaning against the smooth trunk of the palm tree I sleepily watched my ring glint in the early sunlight. I was only broken out of my reverie by an excited shout from Jake, who had gotten up and wandered a bit further down the beach.

“Look, Lisa! The water’s receding! Oh, would you look at that shell! Oh, and there is a sea star, that’s amazing!” I stood up, staring in confusion. The water, which had been lapping against the sand several feet away from where we were sitting had indeed disappeared to a distant blue sparkle several hundred yards away. A small warning was sounding in the back of my mind, but for what? Water receding, water receding, what did that mean? I mulled over it as Jake rushed from one wonder to another, further and further down the beach. Then it all snapped into place and I glanced up in horror.

“Jake!” I yelled, scrambling down the shore towards my husband, who was several hundred feet away down the shore. “Jake! Come back, we need to get out of here!” I stumbled on a slippery stone and hit my knee. “Jake! Water receding is a sign of a…” I lost my voice as I saw the water seem to take on a life of its own and rise up out of its normal place, towering over the small figure of my husband. “…tsunami,” I managed to choke out. “Jake!”

I saw him turn and start running toward me as the water rose higher and higher above us. I was still standing there, staring in shock when he caught my arm, pulling me roughly around as he sprinted up towards the trees. We hit the line of palms and kept running, but now we could hear the roar of the water behind us. I glanced back and threw myself behind a small knot of palm trees next to Jake, hugging one tightly just as the wave hit.

The water shook the trees and tore at my skin and my nose and throat. My arms strained to keep the water from ripping me away from the palm tree, my nails biting into my hands. The noise deafened me, a thunderous roar accentuated by the sound of trees snapping and of someone screaming. I could not breathe, I could not think, the water was everywhere. It wrapped itself around me and pulled me off the tree, bruising me with its smashing caress. Then the pounding crushing force was gone, but the water swept back towards the ocean, capturing anything that the first wave had broken and sweeping it back with it, plastering me against the palm trunks. As the debris swept by it felt like every piece of it had to hit me before it was allowed past. I was battered by branches and planks and small beach toys. Then something, a rock maybe, collided sharply with my ankle, sending excruciating pain through my leg. The water’s pressure left me without the ability to move, so I could not double up, all I could do was endure. My head reeled from lack of oxygen as the world turned into the muddy brown current sweeping me away.

Eventually the pressure did lessen, and I could stand up and take a breath. I was covered in brown muck and felt like every inch of me was bruised. Shakily I reached out, blindly, reeling from the shock of what had just happened. As I stretched out my hand it was caught by an equally shaky one of Jake’s. I looked over, relief filling my eyes as I saw his mud covered figure. He was moving as carefully as I was, which probably mean he was just as battered and bruised.

“W-we made it,” I gasped as I took a shaky step towards him, placing my feet carefully through the piles of debris that covered the ground. “You’re alive.” Somehow this felt like a miracle to me, that we had both managed to live through something this powerful. He put his arm protectively around my shoulder as I discovered that I couldn’t put weight on my ankle.

“Yes, we are both fine. We are alright.”

We slowly started to pick our way back towards the house. Jake moved carefully, he had been hit by a branch and he thought he might have a couple broken ribs, and I walked in a slow half limp while avoiding the piles of rubbish that were everywhere. After what felt like an eternity we rounded the rocks close to the villa and stopped in shock. The house was gone. I had heard that expression before, when people said that buildings were just gone, but it never does the situation justice. The place that we were looking for to find sanctuary, a phone, food, our clothes and a bed had vanished. All that was left was the cement foundation and a couple of support beams standing into the sky like jagged teeth mocking us in a broken smile. We stood and stared for several minutes before turning to each other with the same question in our eyes, what do we do now?

It was then that I learned something very important about tsunamis. There are always second waves.