Rising tide…

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The sea is rising

The rain comes in mountains now.

Falling so fast its like a bomb.

Wet feet

Now wet knees,

Up to my thighs…

We walked once from Robin Hoods Bay

To Boggle Hole.

On the North East Coast

Of Yorkshire.

The sea came in

Along the rocks.

It was faster than us.

He was up to his chest,

I was up to my neck

When we waded out

Of the North Sea.

That was twenty years ago.

Now you only have to look at a cloud

And you are covered, soaked, flooded.

Where will it end?

Up a creek without a paddle?

Out of the rain.

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The storm blew in from the North like a runaway train. The wind threw water against the houses. Cars were lifted up by the flood and were caught on the top of the neat hedges that lined the sides of the street. Out of the maelstrom came a figure of a small man dressed in a black raincoat. Water streamed from him, it flowed out of his sleeves and trouser legs. Tears streamed in rivers from his eyes, nose, mouth and even from his ears.

He was called Beck and he was from the North. He was a water god and he had decided to show mankind his might because of the way the World was being treated. He was angry and the storm was growing into a tornado. He had seen the way forests were being cut back, cars clogging roads, ships travelling half way across the world to deliver the cheapest sweatshop goods.

Beck lifted his arms, words bubbled up from his mouth.

Learn or die! He screamed in a high voice. Learn, or, die !