Cascadia 1700

An imaginary account of a historic event

Many seasons past, on a chill day heavy with frost and winter fog, the sea took our land. Swift it came, roaring through the shrouded redwood with a power that shook the earth itself.

The night before, as we slept safe from biting winds, serpents fought. They writhed beneath our feet, shook us from our sleep. Our children wailed in fear and we rushed into the black night as timbers cracked above our heads. Through the endless dark we huddled in the bitter air, trembling in fear they would burst from the ground and swallow us whole.

When the sun came our Shaman soaked the ground with blood, danced a dance, beat a drum, used fire and smoke, drove them back to spirit worlds to lick their wounds and sleep. Their hunger gone, we felt peace and returned to our cedar huts, numb with cold yet safe, protected with our magic.

But once again,  as the sun sank over the sea, the serpents came and we danced upon their twisting tails. Redwoods swayed like grass, the ground rose and fell like waves in a winter storm. A man could not stand on the once solid earth and fell to his knees, vainly clutching the grass.

And then the sea.

At first it left. Not like the daily rise and fall that leaves our boats like stranded seals in mud. Fast as  scampering deer it fled our shores. Stones rolled and scattered with the sound of falling hail, fish caught in the ebb flapped and gasped, drowning in the air.

Despite our fear, like fools we rushed to this bounty, scooped  and filled our arms with salmon. So much to take, we did not hear the warning cries, did not sense the sea’s return.   

No waves, no surf, a silent tide was all we knew. We ran as waters touched our feet, fell as waters climbed our legs, swam as   waters clutched our chests, drowned as waters beat our heads.

Black and cold as moonless nights it spread across the shores, taking all who could not run. Our crops, our huts were washed aside and sank beneath the silent flood. Many stood in frozen fear, mute as the waters pulled them down. Many fled to trees which fell and rolled beneath its power. 

On it came, a hungry beast, a black shadow swallowing whole our fertile valley. We few clung to shaking redwoods, felt the beast’s cold fingers scrape our flesh to draw us down. Our nails bled as they dug deep in the bark. Then swift as it came, swift did it leave, melting through streams and riverbeds, dragging our ruined world back to its depths. No cries came from man, woman, child, nor beast, only silence remained, heavy as the mud that covered the wounded earth.

The sea took our land away then returned beyond the shores with its harvest of our lives. Only ghosts remained.