The floods came suddenly, the riverbanks burst, and cars were caught in what the Met Office called a flash flood.

Rippling over the walkways, crashing past the benches where tourists usually sat. Over the roads, into the gardens where sacks of sand where piled. They were swept under the little tsunami of water.

And the rains kept falling, drenching the gardens – the water lapped the houses – built proudly for their river views. The gardens disappeared completely.

The few parked cars that had been left in the roads near the rivers started to disappear too. And the force of the water ran between the houses – and into them. The few parked cars that had been left in the roads near the rivers started to disappear too. And the force of the water ran between the houses – and into them. It was pure power. 

And the rains kept on boosting the flooding, muddy behemoth, slow, steady and unrelenting. But the wettest of all was the little town’s high street where the shops drowned, lights out, names erased, and cars covered on the pavement.

And Bella, of Bella’s Wedding Fashion shop, stood upstairs in the flat above her shop looking down the staircase at her stock, floating muddily and ruined across her shop. And her cheeks were wet. Although that wasn’t the rain.

Susan Miller

Susan Millar is a long-standing workshop attendee and works as an editor of news, sports and business stories.