WHIRLPOOL 

By Tessa Harvey


    

    Humming as she prepared her family's evening meal, Esther was suddenly aware of wailing, and thudding running steps on the outside deck. Archie flung open the flyscreen: "Thomas gone," he yelled. His face was awash in tears and his nose was running. Dirt streaked his face and clothes.
    Susan crept in, sobbing quietly and shaking, soaking wet. "The waves got him!" she mumbled and added as though aggrieved, "and there were no white horses riding the waves to save him."
    Esther dropped the paring knife in the shining steel sink. Sun shone on all the pots and pans, the old oak polished table reflecting light.
    She couldn't think, then glancing up, she saw black clouds blotting the sun further up the valley moving fast against the wind.
    Flash flood!. She swayed and gripped the sink.



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