Tower and Town, August 2026 (view the full edition)The Scorching Surface"2:00 AM... (I think) , 20th October, 2037. 11 years since. 132 months. 4017 days. 96360 hours. At least that’s what we’re told.” Hot. So hot. They had never seen anything like it! The United Kingdom were thrilled. Life was good. Hot, but life was good. "Cora! Look on tv, it’s the new Prime Minister, Andre Burdoo. If he keeps this weather up, the country will love him!” my mother tells me without a care for the words that have inconspicuously slipped out of her mouth. Well, she got her wish. The sun never stopped... September - the dryest in centuries. October - resources are running low and water is in finite amounts. November - skin cancer kills 100 per week. Without suncream the people’s skin fried. December - the rich people are moving underground. Its far cooler down there and no sun! January - the transition. Everyone, every county, town, village was transitioned underground. Told to only bring the essentials. February - life in our private pod is strange. Before we came under, with the lack of water, all the plants crippled in the heat. That’s our last memory of Earth’s surface. All life terminated. I have to leave. From my time in this place, I’ve realised that I have to see what’s above. Even if - as they say - it kills me. Dig. Dig up. Don’t stop. I must see. Dig. These are the only thoughts that swarm my head. On repeat, day after day, week after week, like every person in this broken society. Dig. Dig wet soil. Something new. Green. I almost burst in a flame of excitement. I can’t believe my eyes. A small sprout of life before me, glimmering. Hope, when everyone believed it was lost. I remember to contain myself as any discovery of my rebellious actions could cost my life. I clamber down and grab my fully packed bag ready to go. My heart is exhilarating in a rapid rush. I break the damp surface with my bare hands revealing all that was lost. Rain. Rain patters against my forehead as gorgeous blades of grass explore in between my toes. I let it nourish my achy limbs that have longed for so long. The heatwave is over. The sun era has ended. Questions infect my headspace like a bad disease. Why? What have they hidden from us? What do we not know? My mind is only certain on one thing. I must save the others. I must save society. Mimi Bevan<br>Year 9 Winner, Heatwave Writing Competition |