The flood crept into the town at night, silently, like a slimy millipede. The people of the town awoke to the sight of water perilously clutching the walls of their homes. The smell of danger rose and stayed in the air.
Abutu, a local canoe maker was one of those evacuating his house. On the 4th day of the flood, as he and his little boy, his only child, were packing the last of their things, they heard the roof of the house grunt while some concrete dust sifted to the ground. They hastened their hands. Once done and outside, they heard the roof groan further as though it would crumble soon.
Just then, the little boy screamed: 'My soldier!!', referring to his favourite toy, and began to run back into the house. Abutu yelled and ran after him but soon stopped for, just as the boy entered the house, the house collapsed on him.
Abutu was left bewildered and in shock. In that little boy was everything he ever truly had. He wept and wept, like a child.
But not long after, he heard someone coughing as he wriggled himself free from under the rubble..
The boy lived.