JOURNAL 9
The storm pushed into our door…
…and broke through our ceiling.
We escaped to the roof.
From up there we could see…
We saved only what mattered.
Our house was gone.
Everyone’s house was gone.
The dock was gone.
But children played on the boat
and I could get it ready.
I knew we had to leave.
END OF CHAPTER THREE
This story continues in Chapter Four
JOURNAL 8
He went across the sea…
…looking for work.
He was my sister’s husband
and he never came back.
I promised not to leave them.
Even after the rising sea swallowed the pier
I could still fish.
Sea water seeped up through the street.
But if we could keep fishing
I thought I could stay.
My friend said if we left…
…we could make MONEY to bring our families by plane
and live like people on TV.
Then the storm began
slowly at first.


*
…to be continued…