THE PHOENIX AND THE FORM: Prologue
The rain hammered down
like a relentless barrage, the once-tranquil river now a monstrous torrent. The
bridge was barely visible through the downpour. Inside the sedan, Victor
gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles pale from the tension. Beside him, his
daughter Sophie sat in the passenger seat, her eyes wide with fear.
“Sophie, we can’t wait
here forever,” Victor said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The water’s
rising, and if we don’t cross now, we might never get to the award ceremony.”
“I don’t know Dad, it
seems dangerous!” She said, craning her neck as she tried to look ahead.
Victor peered through
the rain-streaked windshield. Other cars had lined up in front of them, their
tail lights casting eerie red shadows in the gloom. Time was running out.
“I know it’s scary,
but I’ll keep you safe. Trust me,” Victor reassured her, and with a deep
breath, got out of the lane and edged the car forward. The sedan crept onto the
bridge, its tyres splashing through the gathering waters. The structure
groaning ominously under the weight.
Halfway across, a
deafening roar filled their ears, like the sound of thunder rumbling, as the
river surged. Victor’s eyes darted to the passenger seat window—only to see a
wall of water barreling towards them.
“Sophie! Hold on!”
Victor shouted over the tumultuous noise. “It’s going to hit us!” he yelled,
pushing the accelerator to the floor. The car surged forward with a desperate
burst of speed.
“Dad, I’m scared!” her
voice a fragile thread amidst the cacophony of the storm.
Victor reached out,
his hand finding hers. “I’ve got you, Sophie! Just hold on tight!”
But with a thunderous
crash, the floodwaters engulfed the sedan. The car lurched violently as the
wave struck with the force of a thousand fists. It shuddered as if in protest,
its engine whining in distress. Sophie screamed as the floodwaters lifted the
car like a leaf in the wind. Glass shattered, the murky depths clawing their
way inside, the world outside twisting into a maelstrom of shadow and crashing
waves.
The water tightened
its grip, swirling around them—cold and unforgiving—as the darkness, closed in.