Above the Water
The city was drowning.
From above, rooftops looked like islands in a silent ocean of floodwater. Streets had disappeared. Cars were half-submerged. The world below was unrecognizable.
On one rooftop stood a dog.
Alone.
No way down. No dry path to run. Just rising water and the sound of distant rotors cutting through the sky.
He had nowhere to go.
Wind began whipping across the rooftop as a rescue helicopter approached. The blades pushed water into violent ripples. The dog crouched low, frightened but holding his ground.
Time was running out.
Then a figure descended from the sky.
A rescue worker lowered carefully on a rope, boots touching the rooftop with precision. One wrong movement. One slip. The margin for error was thin.
Someone risked everything.
The dog trembled as the rescuer moved closer. No sudden gestures. No force. Just calm, steady presence in the middle of chaos.
The harness came out.
The dog hesitated for a fraction of a second.
Then he allowed it.
He trusted him.
Within moments, they were rising.
Above the flood. Above the fear. Above the destruction.
The city looked smaller from the air. The danger still real, but no longer immediate.
Inside the helicopter, wrapped in a rescue blanket, the dog finally relaxed. Golden light filtered through the window as the storm began to fade in the distance.
Safe.
No questions asked. No calculations made.
Because real heroes don’t ask who deserves saving.
They just act.