The Island Wakes Up

The island had slept for two hundred years. Its volcano, a grey mountain at the centre of the island, had been quiet for so long that people built their houses on its slopes and planted gardens in its rich soil. No one feared it. Their grandparents had never seen it angry.

Then, last week, the ground began to shake. At first the shakes were small, like a heavy truck passing in the night. But while the island slept, the shakes grew stronger. Cracks opened in the roads. Birds left the trees and did not come back. The old people knew these signs, and they were afraid.

The scientists at the island station watched their machines and gave the warning early. They told everyone to leave at once. There was no time to pack. Families ran to the harbour with only the clothes they wore. Boats carried them across the water to the safety of the next island, and they watched their home grow small behind them.

That night, the volcano exploded. The explosion threw fire and rock high into the dark sky, and a river of hot stone ran down the slopes. It destroyed the gardens, the roads, and many of the houses. The force of it was felt for miles.

But not one person died. Because the warning came in time, every family had to leave their home, yet every family escaped. Houses can be built again. The people of the island were saved.