The year is 1484 B.C in the old world of Africa. 

“Noah, come down stairs, it's time to eat!” Maya screamed. Noah got ready rapidly and scurried down the uneven steps. Bzzz.bzzz. He got a Bereal notification on his phone telling him that his girlfriend had just posted. Today was special; he had plans to go out into town with his girlfriend Cara, but something wasn't right. The day was unusually quiet, no obnoxious honking or any signs of people anywhere. 

“Weird,” Noah mumbled quietly under his breath. Sprinting around the corner he slipped on the rug and fell. He looked up to find his two sisters, Maya and Sofia, laughing at him. Both sisters were ten years older than Noah. Being ten years older, Noah, at age 17, towered over them at a sturdy six-foot-three frame. Their laughter ceased, evolving  into a slow continuous rumble. A screeching noise sounded from all devices in the house, then, black…

The loud silence of ringing ears filled the living room. The tv turned on to a scientist panicking. The television glitched in and out, his words -

incomprehensible, but one word was clear: run! 

“Get in the car!” Noah cried.

Scrambling to the car, the ground cracked and water seeped out, the slow, steady rise of water gave Noah the idea, Mt Blanc. Highway one, ninety miles an hour, the risk of hydroplaning increased by the minute. Finally arriving at Mount Blanc, they looked out upon the low town of Cairo to find a submerged town beside the steeple atop the church he intended as a kid. Friends and memories were drowning and there was nothing he could do about it. Bzzz.Bzzz. Noah’s phone went off and it was a tweet from the president. The tweet read there is a safe house located 50 miles north along the border of Egypt. “That explains why Cairo has been a ghost town,” said Maya. Noah looked around to find a way to avoid the water; there was no way out. He frantically paced back and forth. His eyes locked on the steeple, and he remembered a story of a man and his ark his mother used to tell him as a child. 

“Maya, Sofia,” Noah called out to his sisters. “We’ve got to build a raft.” Noah looked around for materials. 

“Mother used to tell that story every night before I went to sleep,” said Sofia. 

“Yeah I remember like it was yesterday,” said Maya. 

The next day they started on the raft, gathering sticks, leaves, vines, and clay so that the raft wouldnt fall apart.

Once the raft was finished, Noah sent out a tweet asking for help; hours later, there was still no response. Lost, cold, and hopeless, the trio climbed onto the raft and watched the water rise beneath them. The unforgiving horror gradually rose atop the trees slowly disappearing into eventually nothing, just them and the water below. A few hours passed, wave after wave slowly deteriorated the raft as well as their hope of survival. Over the course of several days the slow descent into madness was inevitable. Cracked lips, blisters, and starving; he had to send one more tweet. His phone, minutes away from dying, but Noah knew he must send one more tweet, just to say goodbye…

Bzzz.Bzzz. Noah’s phone vibrated on the hard wood raft; it was a response to his tweet…Dizziness set in…black. Noah woke up and scrambled to his phone only to find he was hallucinating. Hope lost, he said one more prayer and rolled off the side of the raft…