The Only Cool Place in Future Palestine

The summer sun in future Palestine was not just hot — it was legendary. Streets shimmered like molten glass, rooftops glowed, and even the birds refused to fly unless absolutely necessary. Every place was scorching under the relentless sky… except the beach.

And on that blessed stretch of cool sand and gentle breeze stood the only person brave enough to enjoy it: Zabrina.

She stretched her toes into the soft sand, sighing happily as the wind brushed her face. But as she looked back toward town, she felt a tug of concern. People were suffering in that heat. Maybe — just maybe — she could convince them to join her.

So she left the peaceful shoreline and walked into the blazing town square.

The first people she saw were three very young girls sitting on a bench, each clutching a melting ice cream cone. Mary Katherine, descendant of England; Elizabeth Anne, descendant of Scotland; and Sara Jane, descendant of Wales — three tiny islands of Celtic stubbornness.

Zabrina smiled. “Girls, those ice creams would taste so much better at the beach.”

Mary Katherine gasped dramatically. “No way, Zabrina! It’s way too hot for the beach!”

Elizabeth Anne nodded fiercely. “Yeah! That hot sand would burn my little hands.”

Sara Jane didn’t say anything — she was too busy trying to keep her ice cream from dripping onto her dress.

But it was too late.

SPLAT.

All three cones hit the ground at the same time, like a sad little ice‑cream orchestra.

“Huh?” the girls said in unison.

Then came the wails. Loud, echoing, heart‑shattering wails.

Zabrina winced. “Okay… maybe not the best timing.”

She continued down the street until she spotted Razia Sultan — born in India, named after the legendary queen, and feared by absolutely everyone. Even the police crossed the street when they saw her coming. Today she was fanning herself aggressively, muttering complaints under her breath.

“Razia,” Zabrina said gently, “there’s a lovely cool breeze at the beach. You’d feel so much better there.”

Razia froze, eyes wide. “The beach?! What are you, nuts?! In this heat?!”

“I was just there,” Zabrina protested softly. “If you bring sunscreen and maybe an umbrella—”

But Razia was already stomping away, grumbling about “young people with no sense.”

Zabrina tried asking others — shopkeepers, students, elderly couples, even a delivery robot — but no one listened. Everyone insisted the beach was too hot, too bright, too sandy, too everything.

Finally, she threw her hands up.

“Ugh! That’s it! Obviously none of you are going to listen to me. Well, if anyone needs me — which they won’t — I’ll be nice and cool down at the beach. See you.”

She marched back toward the shoreline, disappointment weighing on her shoulders.

But when she reached the sand, she stopped.

Someone was there.

Esther. Her friend. Descendant of the tribe of Judah. Quiet, thoughtful, always observing more than she said.

“You… followed me?” Zabrina asked.

Esther smiled shyly. “I watched you talking to everyone. You tried so hard. And… I’ve never had a beach day before.”

Zabrina blinked. “Never?”

“I was born in the coldest country,” Esther explained. “Snow, ice, freezing winds. Even in my teens. I’ve never felt a warm beach.”

Zabrina’s disappointment melted instantly. “Well then,” she said, taking Esther’s hand, “today is your first.”

They spent the afternoon splashing in the waves, building sandcastles, and laughing as the breeze cooled their skin. Esther took pictures — lots of them — and posted them online.

Within minutes, people in town saw the photos.

Within an hour, they arrived in crowds.

Even Razia Sultan showed up, calmer now, sitting under a giant umbrella with a satisfied sigh.

But as everyone enjoyed the cool beach, laughing and relaxing…

They completely forgot it had been Zabrina’s idea.

Zabrina just shook her head, smiling faintly.

At least they were finally cool.