The rain had been incessant and biblical for days and weeks and nearing a month. When finally it stopped, we emerged from our homes into the November night to inspect the world that had kept us indoors, cut off from one another. Everything had changed. An alien soundscape greeted us: crackling walkie-talkies, cries of alarm, shouts of despair, and in the distance, a gushing torrent of water. A chill flowed through my veins as I realised that the river had breached its banks. Blue flashing lights approached, piercing the darkness. Evacuation, they said. You need to leave.
Emma McEvoy writes short stories and flash fiction. Originally from Ireland, she now lives in Yorkshire with her husband, teenage children, and naughty beagle. Find Emma on Twitter @Corkyorky.