For part 1 click here.
Except that’s not how the story went. A true story is not manipulating, yet this one is; I did not lead the leadership role in this story.
I remember sitting in a small games room, enjoying the relaxing holiday. When a bang on the glass windows sent me to the ground in fear. A maid’s warning of a tsunami sent me into shock, but it is not without trying that I struggle to remember those few seconds in between that and being grabbed from my right arm and called to run.
My hearth began to throb inside my chest –thump, thump, thump- a pull on my arm dragged me out of the room and onto an apocalyptic street, someone bumped into my shoulder and knocked me against an abandoned car, my heart hammered against my lungs– thump, thump, thump- the constant knock of my heart forced my breathing to become heavier, I could not feel the oxygen entering my body, I was beginning to drown; the same hand that took me onto the street, dug into my wrist and bit into my skin, pulling me in the opposite direction of the crowd- a knock on my head from an oncoming elbow hit me like a rock and sent me looking in the wrong direction, but still I was dragged on; a young Thai girl stared at me with pleading eyes, but I was stuck, without the ability to move and her screams of help were muffled by the beating of my heart- thump, thump, thump.
But that’s not how it happened, because that little girl came up the hill with us. A true war story should not be told from the emotions that one feels, rather the events that actually happened.
We were sat in a games room when the Maid slammed on the window. Her cries of a tsunami shocked us all, but one by one we picked ourselves up and headed outside. The crowd all rushed in one direction, but we all registered the fact that there was another trail that climbed the hill towards our right. We pushed against the crowd, that seeped out of the buildings and flowed along the street, and barged our way towards a private road.
A young Thai girl, no older than five, looked towards our grouping pleadingly. I shouted towards my brother, whom was closest, to grab her; he picked her up and carried her over his shoulder as we continued up the road. The private lane was decorated with tropical bushes that traced its way towards a large gate, next to which stood an abandoned control stand, where the controller had fled in such a panic that he had left the gate shut.
As we approached, a crowd had already begun to form around the gate, from this group of people a crying of relief screamed out. A petrified mother ran down and grasped her daughter thankfully from my brother’s arms, tears streamed down her cheeks and her arms locked to her daughter’s small body.
The crowd had begun to squeeze in on the gate, trapping us menacingly towards the metal bars; I looked towards my entourage and we began to lift one and another over. Someone lifted me up, their face a blur in my memory, and I grabbed the top of the bars and hoisted myself over.
Perched on top, I briefly looked backwards on the scenes of disarray below; an explosion of nightmares had been release along the Thai coastline, leaving behind a vast sprawl of apocalyptic ruins. I dropped over the barrier, the last in my group, and we ran up the hill towards the safety of high ground. No literal wave actually hit that day, but in my mind a different type of wave hit me, a wave of horrid emotions.
It only struck me the true impact of the situation as the movie titles drew to a close. It was the first time that I had truly recollected the event without just using it as a good story to tell my friends. It had emotionally impacted me. I walked upstairs and began to run to a bath, finally settling myself down into the lukewarm water.
The liquid quickly concealed my whole face, and I started to think, I started to dwell, I started to worry. Is this what drowning would feel like? I opened my lips, but I could taste nothing, no rush or dramatic answer to an unknown question, it was just eerily quite and extremely lonely. I pulled myself out of the bath and looked out of the window and onto the lively Dutch street. I was quite lucky really, that was just a brief moment of chaos, in my not so chaotic life.
My name is Max, I am a 18 year old student currently studying in Canada.
If you guys enjoyed this then I will post part two tomorrow.
Thanks for reading, commenting, and sharing! :)
