Beneath the Waterfall

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, across oceans and meadows and mountains and forests lay a dry and barren plain. Here the flat, orange ground seemed to go on forever, until it met the sky on the distant horizon. It was so hot and so dry in the plain, that neither a tree nor blade of grass ever grew there. Yet along the edge of the plain, rose a towering waterfall, which stretched along the plain as far as the eye could see. Its crystal clear water splashed on the rocks as it flowed straight down, disappearing into a large gap between it and the dry, cracked soil of the plain.
Some folks would never think of living in a place such as the dry and dusty plain, but for Tom and Sarah, it was the only home they had ever known. Tom and Sarah lived in a small wooden house beside the waterfall with their Mama and Papa. Tom and Sarah were two children who were alike in nearly every way, from their straw coloured hair and rosy red cheeks, to their happy blue eyes, and round, kind faces. And even when they smiled the same merry little smiles, their faces crinkled in the same places too, for the children were not only brother and sister, but twins as well. Together, they spent most of the time amusing themselves by reading stories, and playing games in the cool, salty spray that the waterfall made as it rushed against the rocks. But sometimes, they longed to see the world beyond the great barren plain, even though their mother forbade it.
“You‘re too young to be venturing out on your own” their mama would say, whenever the twins asked her if they could go. Day after day, Tom and Sarah’s mother cooked and cleaned and scrubbed and washed in their little wooden house, whilst their father spent his days scouring the plain for gold and precious gems, of which he found very little.

One day, the day when our story really begins, was the day that Uncle Caspar came to visit. Tom and Sarah’s favourite person in the world was their Uncle Caspar. Whenever he returned from one of his long journeys, he would tell them marvellous tales about his adventures in distant lands: of noble kings and queens, of graceful elves and lumbering giants, of crooked old wizards and fire breathing dragons, and tales of the most beautiful fairies. Every story left the twins begging to hear another. But telling magical stories was not the only thing Uncle Caspar could do. He could do magic tricks, and tell jokes, and speak several different languages from Gibberish to Flemish and all the languages in between. He could sword fight and would invent all sorts of useful gadgets, not to mention baking the most scrumptious chocolate chip cookies the twins had ever tasted. Better still, Uncle Caspar always brought them gifts, whether it was precious treasures from lands afar, piles and piles of sweets, or his own little curious inventions. So when Tom and Sarah spotted Uncle Caspar making his way cheerfully towards them across the dry plain that day, they were positively delighted.
No sooner had he walked through the door of their little wooden home, than the twins showered him with questions about his latest journey: What kinds of creatures had he encountered on his adventure? Where had he been? The mountains? The ocean? An island? The forest? What new magic tricks had he learnt? Had he seen dragons? Had he brought one back with him? Before the twins could ask him any more questions, their mother began bustling them out of the dining room
“Out with you two, your Uncle Caspar has travelled far and no doubt he needs some rest!”
“Wait a moment,” The twins mother stopped bustling the two away at once, as Uncle Caspar, with his usual cheery smile, took off his tattered brown bag, and began rummaging through it. Tom and Sarah leaned closer, trying to take a peek at what Uncle Caspar had brought them, though all they could see was a large bundle of clothes. Soon, with a smile of satisfaction, Uncle Caspar withdrew his hands from the bag, and held them out to Tom and Sarah. In each hand, was a shiny, black cloak, neatly folded into a square. And on top of each folded cloak lay a bag of sweets, as well as a tin whistle, which twinkled and shined like freshly polished silver.
“These,” Uncle Caspar held the two tin whistles up, “are from an island across the sea. All the folk there are tiny – no bigger than your thumb. They’ve never seen someone as big as you or I. So when I travelled there, I was treated like royalty. That’s how I met their leader, King Etunim and asked him if he could make two larger ones for me.” Uncle Caspar gave a jovial smile, “He happily obliged. All the tiny folk there play these, and I thought you might like one as well”.
“Thank you Uncle Caspar!” replied the twins graciously “But what is the cloak for?”
“You should never leave home without a cloak – it can be tremendously useful on any journey.”
Tom and Sarah’s Mama frowned slightly “Don’t you dare go putting more ideas into their heads, its bad enough as it is with all your storytelling”. All Uncle Caspar did was smile his usual jolly smile.
“Thank you! ” The twins replied in unison, as they took their gifts from their uncle.
“Now off with you two… go play outside, your Uncle Caspar must be exhausted after his journey” And with that, the children where hurried out the door into the sweltering heat of the plain.

The children walked across the hot dusty plain to where the waterfall stood, towering over their heads. Sarah sat down on a large red rock that had been warmed by the sun and inspected her new tin whistle, imagining all the different tunes she could now play, whilst Tom armed with his whistle, began a sword fight with an invisible foe.
“Where do you think Uncle Caspar has been this time?” Tom asked, promptly dodging his opponent.
“I don’t know” replied Sarah, “but it must have been somewhere very exciting”.
“Maybe he fought a fire-breathing dragon … or an evil sorcerer” Tom wondered aloud, as he himself attacked his enemy. Again, Tom dodged the imaginary swordsman with a swish of his new black cape. He swerved, thrust his tin sword forward, dodged and parried until –
“My whistle!” cried Tom, as his brand new whistle spun through the air and disappeared over the side of the dark wide chasm.
“Oh, it just fell on a ledge.” Tom said, leaning over the edge of the gap slightly “I think I can reach it if I try.”
“Tom! You mustn’t!” But no sooner had Sarah had said this, than her brother was dangling over the side, reaching out his arm towards the fallen tin whistle.
“I’ve nearly got –” crack! In an instant, the edge that Tom had been dangling from crumbled away, the loose rock crashing on the wall of the chasm as it fell below.
“Tom!” Sarah exclaimed as she rushed over to where her brother had been only moments before. “Tom!” she sobbed.
“I’m down here” The small girl peeped hesitantly over the side of the chasm to find her brother looking rather dazed, but smiling up at her nonetheless. He had fallen only a short way, landing on a thin rocky ledge.
“Tom!” She cried, her voice a mouse squeak compared to the thundering waterfall “hold my hand!” But try as he might, Tom could not reach his sisters outstretched hand. He jumped and he stretched, and he willed himself to grow taller, but to no avail. Sarah stretched out as far as she could go and at last Tom managed to take hold of her hand. Crack! The two children gave a shriek as the orange earth around them broke away, crumbling beneath their very feet. In an instant, the twins were swept away, arms flailing and feet flying, hurtling through the darkness of the chasm.