The Water Is Rising

Day – after day, the rain fell upon the city. In thickening sheets, the downpour swept the city clean. All manner of abhorrent muck, dust, sludge, and grime were lifted from their long-accustomed moorings. The rainfall formed into pools, which ran into gutters, which filled gullies, and swarmed rivers, creeks, and catchments alike. The city and its tributaries bled a septic torrent. Its arteries clogged - the city, built by the hands of men, fell into a quagmire of its own creation.

Once the sky had grown tired of its great display, the sun began to return - illuminating the embattled remnants of the city below. Some survivors swam between rooftops, newfound islands linked by atolls of submerged streetlights, cars, and debris. Nothing but the water line remained - a smear right through the centre of town – nothing remained unscathed.

Within the wreckage of a home, a fettered rustling could be found– a short squat thing, fidgeting and squirming around. The house, sold under the very same gaze that now franticly rummaged, flickered between the sodden piles of the inundated home. It was the same creature that plundered new property bounds upon once fertile flood plains. They now bore his signature mark - ‘For Sale’ – ‘Safe’ – and ‘Good to Go’. Dishonest dollars cascaded behind the river’s unbridled wrath, with its banks swollen, the creature’s sideshow investment now a costly slurry. But woe, now there laid a child, a family in fact. About a dozen give or take, it was still to be tallied. Embolden by ‘lackies' and ‘yes men', their deaths came as little surprise to the ruthless magnate. Garish, fraudulent, and illicit – housing for profit, with the help of a few secretive favours, he quickly grew accustomed to all manner of filthy trick and lucrative tune.

Within those swirling waters was all manner of sorts – who knows what it was or perhaps it was in the combination of the lot. It began to turn our magnate into something truly ugly. Bit by bit, with every quick turn, every darting glance and fidgety tug, the man began to grow into something peculiar. Ballooning with a gruesome bulge, a hard shell grew from either side, his face widened as his shirt split - the transmutation hideous and unsightly. A malevolence was born from within that wily man, what was inside soon became out - he was reborn again. But inside-out! Grotesque hairy legs, and dirty twitching antennae sprouted. He became a beast in the shreds of an Armani tie. The Wetiko was born, as the locals would later recount.

The city lay in disarray – an emergency declared. People were uprooted, frightened, and scared - yet still there remained many less affected. They watched on from television screens as the clean-up unfolded like some great Hollywood set. Feeding from their great stores of food, unbothered they sought no need to change their ways. And like everything stagnant, it soon began to rot, and rotting is exactly what the creature liked, more than a lot. There was a scurrying out back, the first instinct is to look. Turning on the light, he was sure, but nothing at all was there. Then another rustle came from deep within the garden. Stepping closer, it seemed, again nothing the matter. Suddenly, and with ferocious pace, the Wetiko did pounce! It lunged from somewhere unseen, all in one big gobble he ate him up clean!

Squirming with delight the Wetiko thought he had been filled. But to his surprise, those engorged sides once again, grew and grew. He tore himself this way and that and soon he was double his size. The hunger was back even stronger. The Wetiko needed to consume. More! More! More! Shrieking with watering eyes – he bolted for the fence, bounding right over with frightful flight.

Several days went by as the Wetiko grew larger. It consumed everything in sight, especially those greedy types. He filled up his gut with this one and that – until soon he was taller than a whole housing flat. Taller than buses, and higher than a house, the Wetiko was soon bigger than the tallest of mountains. Beyond anyone could imagine the beast was enormous! The flood water was one thing, but now the terror had spread. No one could live their lives as they once had.

There was no way to continue – the people spread out, somewhere safe they decided to hide. They packed up their things and cast themselves out. Seeking a new place beyond the Wetikos sight. Out near the mountains where he could not find them, they settled down and to their surprise, they started to discover. New things which once lay out of reach - a way of living that was simple, equitable, and entirely self-sufficient. They built and lived with the things which had their needs met. They didn’t need to gorge themselves or scour the land. No more was there any greed – they peacefully got along and lived happily with what they had.

In the end the Wetiko began to shrink. No longer was anyone around to feed its power. As the days went by the Wetiko faded bit by bit, centimetre by centimetre, from the very top of the city down to the pavements edge he shrunk. Its monstrous creation, returned slowly back into the realm of the absurd. No more was the Wetiko seen, though perhaps it was his return, when something on the windscreen made a terrible SPLAT. Although the Wetiko was awful, hideous in fact. The Wetiko had taught the people a valuable lesson. That we could all have enough without giving into greed, and that good things in the end, sometimes start with something a little obscene.

The End.