[Chapter 6] The Last Elder of History

Chapter 6: The Concrete Shore

This is the next installment of a serialized story about an increasingly probable outcome due to looming climate change. The story and every chapter will be available to subscribers. You can get started with a free 30-day trial below:

Without further ado, here is Chapter 6: The Concrete Shore

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The air inside the house was cool and still. It felt unnaturally stale. It didn't move. It lacked the familiar scents of salt, fish, or damp earth.

Hemi sat in a soft chair. It was too soft, swallowing him slightly. There was a large, clear window showing him a modicum of the outside. He wore clothes Keanu had given him: trousers made of a stiff, unfamiliar fabric that chafed his skin, and a brightly colored shirt which was loose. They were a large contrast from the simple wrap skirts he had worn his entire life. They smelled faintly of chemicals, not the sun and sea.

Outside the window lay a world utterly alien. Instead of sand or packed earth paths which wound between stilt houses, there was a wide, flat ribbon of hard black ground. Strange, brightly colored metal boxes on wheels slid silently past on this black ribbon far faster than any canoe.

Beyond this path were unnaturally shaped squares of green grass, uniformly short and flat. They were bordered by low hedges clipped into submission. Houses sat heavily upon the land, closed off with solid walls and dark windows. They lacked the breathing structure of the fale or the woven walls of his old home. There were trees, but they were strange, unfamiliar species that stood in neat rows.