Tower and Town, August 2026 (view the full edition)Heat-PocalypseAt first, Britain rejoiced. Our country had always felt like a disgruntled old man; one who was always snoring, and therefore the rain kept pouring- while countries like Spain waltzed with Lady Summer and enjoyed perfect heat and temperature, with their perfect tans and exotic food. But now, we could experience our summer holidays all the same, from the comfort of our own home. Even more so for the children, as the glorious sunshine allowed them some much needed mid week vacation, a joy previously experienced only in hopes and dreams. One day after another, the acclaimed temperature rose and rose, like an angel ascending into a seasonal heaven. It rose and rose and rose and rose, but then it kept rising, and rising, until soon the heat, seemingly gifted to us as salvation, became a divine punishment. Cars overheated mid drive, causing catastrophic crashes, and anything made of metal became a searing, uncontrollable vessel for unmatched burns. The heat pocalypse had started; at least, that’s what the news called it. And it didn’t stop. It never stopped. As the sickening warmth continued to skyrocket, so did the consequences of the curse. Heat has a way of invading your mind and waging wars on your mental state; it drives you mad and bloodthirsty, torturing you with illusions of angelic rain falling from parched clouds, while the sun mocks you by revealing the mirage it casts to taunt you. Waves of excruciating temperature warped and expanded the body and veins, creating hideous lumps and bulges - a pale, forgotten memory of what a human should look like. The wild mugginess of the air clung to everything like a maniacal scientist fawning over his latest hideous creation. And that leads me here, to where the world burned. Jax sat down onto his chair, the cold, soothing wood restoring his spirit for a short while. As he rocked back and forth, contemplating what went wrong with this world - what they did to deserve this scorn he gazed in disgust at the melting windowpane, folded over like someone had poured water down it and frozen it in time. He’d forgotten what that looked like. Water. Looks like it’s not just my vision that’s hazy because of this heat; my memory falters just as well, he thought, pressing off the cool, soothing rocking chair to trudge out into the sweltering world that remained. Kasper Barkholt<br>Year 8 Winner, Heatwave Writing Competition |