WHIRLPOOL 

By Tessa Harvey


    Thomas felt as though he was still underwater. He kept nearing the surface, reaching for the light, then drifting down again where all was confusion.
    He had felt himself lifted into some sort of vehicle, felt his chest being compressed, then a prick in one arm and a mask over his face. He heard his dad talking to him. Where was mum?
    He remembered the first wave. It was such fun. The children's pod suddenly flooded with water, sparkling with sunshine. Thomas had whooped with glee, but Susan was nervous, pulling Archie up the bank. She had called him, "Come on, Thomas. Archie's only four. Please come."
    Then it went dark. Thunder roared, his eyes dazzled with lightning. Susan was screaming. He couldn't hear. She pointed, terror on her face. Then he saw a big waterfall of water coming. Frantic, he gulped air. There were no trees upstream, no boulders, otherwise he would have died.
    He remembered the strange whirling water, the colours, the light-filled doorway. His mum grabbing him. But where was she now?

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