Adversary Story – Theme of the Crashing Waves
December 26th, 2004. A joyful day. The laughter of children playing on the colourful beaches filled my soul. The
sea gulls danced in the sky, peering out fish and swooping in gracefully for the fresh catch. My Indonesia. My
home. I looked out amongst the endless breaks and rustle of the ocean. The waves ran up and down the
endless sands. I felt my damp spirits washing away with the tide. Today would be memorable.
But not in the way I had hoped. I ventured out from my deck to the road running through my village to the
beach. There was a slight trembling in the floor beneath my bare feet, but it was nothing to worry about.
Besides, minor tremors in this region were common. The wind continued to blow along the bay, kicking up
sand and throwing it about in all directions.
As I observed the playful whitewash along the beach, a far more sinister force loomed on the horizon. It grew
at a frightening rate, the waves close to the beach churning back towards the open seas as if being consumed
by some unknown adversary. Its sinister gaze peered into my own, as if it had singled me out for some hellish
agony. But before I could evaluate the danger, in a deafening crash the wave rolled over the beach and
devoured all in its path. I turned and ran, not stopping for anything. Mother Nature had spoken loud and clear.
I knew there was some high ground about 2km behind the town. But I would never make it. The wave of
destruction travelled far faster than my frozen legs could carry me. Already, the black waters had consumed
my village effortlessly. Huts lay in tatters, their fragile supports shattered under the oppressive forces of
nature. Cars were thrown about like ragdolls. People screamed in agony to be rescued from what remained of
their homes, only to be replied by the bellowing wave of death that had come to greet them.
Still I ran on, but it was to no avail. The water came up to my legs, tried to pull them under, to drown me in
their weight. I felt as if it were the end. There was no strength left to fight back. The vast blue mass grabbed
me and threw me about. It smashed me into the numerous bits of debris, leaving me bruised and battered. I
knew not how much of this I could handle before everything would go black.
But then, just as I began losing the surface and falling down into the silent depths, an undercurrent of water
fired me upwards to the surface and laid me to rest almost unconscious against a TV aerial. I lay there gurgling
and coughing out the salty fluid that had tried to take my soul away. I could hear no one. Everything I had
known had gone forever.
Slowly the waves receded back to whence they came, but the sun did not shine on me for those long hours.
Minutes turned into days on my raft in the middle of a scrapheap. I became delirious, desperate for life. I
coughed up blood. There was no food. My hunger worsened. I gasped for breath and for life. I cried in the
moonlight, sobbing loudly in the mist.
I waited and waited. I couldn’t count how long I spent laying there on my death bed. Finally, I laid there to rest
for the last time. I knew there was no hope. I said my prayers. Maybe there was a better life in store for me. I
closed my eyes and drifted off into the night.
I awoke to the sound of helicopter blades turning ferociously. Surely it was I dream. I was imagining things. I
opened and closed my eyes. How could it be? The blast of the blades swept through my hair. I found myself
being lifted on a soft bed. High into the sky I flew. It must have been a dream. They were taking me away to a
better world.
When I woke, I saw the face of a calm doctor examining the scars on my face. He said I would be alright in an
American accent. I looked around at the improvised medical facility. Bloody and bandagers were everywhere. I
realised just how lucky I was. But there were others not so lucky that day. 200,000 others.