Emily Windsnap and the Falls of Forgotten Island

The first sign of trouble was the rain.
   Rain that fell like a river. Like a torrent. Like an avalanche crashing down with such feroc­ity some thought it would split the earth in two. Others argued the earth could not break — but
that it might perhaps be drowned.
   Most didn’t argue at all. They ran. They hid. They protected themselves and their families as well as they could, waiting out a storm the likes
of which no one had ever seen before. The likes of which no one would have thought possible.
   The likes of which, surely, could have been created only by magic. Nothing of this earth could produce such ferocity.
   The rain continued on and on as hours spilled into days. It fell into the ocean with such relentless force that the sea levels rose. It swirled across swells, rising into mountainous peaks, drilled down into whirlpools, and darkened the sky so that it seemed the rain had even drowned the sun.
   And then, like a hungry shark closing in on its prey, like a wizard finding the perfect ingredient for his spell, the rain homed in on what it was looking for: the island in the center of the ocean. An island with no more than a hundred inhabitants.
   But the rain wanted only one of them.
   Elsewhere, the sky lightened. But not above this island. Above the island, it seemed all the darkness of the world, the darkness of a thousand nights, the darkness of the most tortured soul, was gathered together into one cloud.
   The cloud was now so large, it was as if the very fabric of space had opened up to swallow the
island whole.
   For a moment, the world held its breath.
   And then the cloud erupted. Like a giant dragon breathing fire, the darkness unleashed its demons upon the island. Down they rained, sparks flying across the sky like fireworks as the spell was cast.
   Then the rain and the lightning focused on the center of the island, boring a hole all the way through it.
   Enormous arrows of rain continued to pour down all around, so hard that the island’s edges were beaten and hewn into rough, ragged cliffs, gigantic, jagged teeth that refused to let anyone in or out of the land beyond them.
   Tides rose: huge, angry swells that seemed would never again become calm.
   Eventually, the cloud reached the final side of the island. The longest, straightest edge.
   The first cannonball of rain crashed against the foot of the cliffs so hard that it dented the cliff
itself.
   The second punched a hole above the first. Three more times the cloud fired explosions of water at the cliff, higher and higher, as if it were chasing its prey to the top.
   Who was the prey though?
   The people retreated as the balls of water crashed into their land. Each explosion sent them deeper and deeper into the island’s hidden forest, forced them into shelters, and contained them in clearings and caves.
   There were those who saw a large figure rising out of the water — a figure of giant, contorted proportions.
   There were those who heard words streaking through the air.
   “Betrayed me . . .”
   “We had a deal . . .”
   “Never forgive . . .”
   The words grew softer as the rain climbed higher and higher up the mountain beyond the
cliffs.
   As the rain slowed, the cloud took moisture from the fierce swells, growing and growing so that soon the entire island was hidden inside the
cloud.
   Eventually, the sky beyond the island cleared.
   It was over.
   All that was left was a fierce swell, an island cut to shreds, and a thick blanket of fog surrounding it. An angry, raging waterfall screamed down the cliffside, forming a deadly barrier to the bay behind it.
   Those who had survived crept out of their hiding places to find they were now trapped on the island by the cliffs and the falls. Closed off
from the world. Forgotten. Abandoned.
   And for more than five hundred years, that was how it stayed.
 
Emily, are you listening to me?”
   My best friend’s voice jolted me so hard I jumped and splashed myself in the face. “What? What?” I spluttered. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.”
   “Ha!” Shona said with a laugh. “I’m clearly not very interesting!”
   “No!” I protested. “You are! Of course you are. I’m just . . .”
   “You’re exhausted.” Shona finished my sen­tence for me.
   “I guess I am,” I admitted. “Sorry.”
   “It’s OK,” Shona said. “Your life has been crazy lately. I’m surprised you’re still in one piece.”
   Shona was right. We’d recently come home from a geography field trip that had been the lat­est in a long line of adventures.
   “I barely am,” I said. “I mean, can you actually think of more than a week at a time when I wasn’t being almost squeezed to death by a sea monster or getting trapped with sirens in a forgotten under­water cave or dodging hammerhead sharks to get my dad out of Neptune’s underwater prison?”
   Shona flicked her tail as she swam up to the water’s edge. Shona’s a mermaid. Kind of like I am, except she’s a full-­time one. I’m a mermaid only when I go in water. I’m an ordinary girl the rest of the time.
   “Well, yes,” Shona replied. “There was the time when you escaped from Neptune’s evil brother in the frozen Arctic. You weren’t doing any of those things then.”
   I laughed. “Exactly. And to top it off, we go on a school trip where the most exciting activity is supposed to be studying local rock formations, and what happens? I discover a spooky underwater ship and have to rescue a boat full of people who are trapped in Atlantis!”
   Shona smiled as she swished her tail, spreading droplets of water in a sparkly arc above the sea. “You need a break,” she said.
   “I probably do,” I admitted. “Just a little one. What are the chances that will happen?”
   Shona frowned. “Hmm. Slim. It is you we’re talking about here.”
   I splashed water at her, and she laughed and ducked under the surface.