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The Flood
The flood
Crickets chipped in the early evening, their tune carrying far on the gentle breeze. The light patter of rain began, it sprinkled the ground darkening the earth and sidewalks. The rain had never bothered Camille, her thoughts a million miles away from the approaching downpour. The family had all left the house, out on some random errand. She liked them gone, the house peaceful and quiet. The house still for once, a quiet reprieve from family life. The gentle rap of small drops was no cause for alarm. She sat in the window gazing out at the incoming gale. The fading rays of the sun shone lightly through the impending storm. Farther out just beyond one’s vision the clouds were dark and heavy, laden with moisture eager to burst forth. The heavy rain seemed a world away, as Camille sat alone with her thoughts. Small rivers of dirty water gathered at the curbs of the street. The streamlets slithered like murky snakes along their path towards the gutter. Leaves and small pieces of grass peppered the water's surface and flowed along the gutter then vanished into its darkened maw. She did not notice the first small signs that hinted at the ordeal she was about to endure. She sat content to watch the storm pass from the comfort of her home. The small rivers that graced the curbs suddenly started to deepen. Slowly at first, but then with a quickness. She sat still transfixed by the quaint scene viewed out the window. Quiet houses standing proudly in a simple neighborhood. The first hint that something was truly amiss was a hum. A strange buzz that permeated the quiet scene. It soon gathered into a rumble, at first lost in the howl of wind that had kicked up with the oncoming storm. Not until it had become a full roar did the first acknowledgment of danger seep into Camille's awareness. She listened not registering the true meaning of the gathering din. It was just as a sense of dread started to sink in, reality exploded. The house was hit with such force that it seemed that the walls, which shattered like eggshells, had been hit by a speeding freight train. This train was not made of rot iron and steel but of a wall of dirty water that had impacted the house with such power that it sent Camille careening through the air, as if thrown by an angry giant. The flash flood ripped its way through the neighborhood tearing the house off its very foundation and rendering it asunder within seconds. Though all had seemed to happen in slow motion, she had no time to brace herself as she hit the torrent of dark water that now rushed through the space where the proud house had once stood. The watery beast enveloped all, no structure was safe from its lethal jaws. Instantly submerged, she flailed with frantic panic, not knowing anything of the act of swimming, but even that knowledge would not made much of a difference. The water tasted raw and earthy as she fought for breath. Her lungs screamed for air as time and time again she dipped back beneath the ragged waves. It choked and threatened to drown her as she fought with every part of her being just to keep her head above the water. Her strained muscles began to succumb to the waters icy embrace. Her strength began to fade as she battled against death itself. The dark water was full of all matter of debris, wood, uprooted trees, sad pieces of what once was. They floated along with the surging deluge like monsters out of an ancient nightmare, dragons created by the unfettered destruction of the flood. Logs, branches, remnants of destroyed houses all became battering rams’ intent on crushing her as she fought to stay afloat. She flailed, fought, struggled against the foul water that now enveloped her. Her mind was awash with the utter terror, her world throw into absolute chaos. she knew nothing of how or if she would survive. As the dismal mass of water was about to swallow her whole, to send her to those dark depths from which few ever escape, she realized that the deadly flotsam adrift in the squall could be her saving grace. Just as a large jagged unrecognizable mass of broken house sailed past her, she reached up with her nails and with all her might clung the piece of debris. As the dark water pulled, unwilling to release its grip on its exhausted victim, she heaved herself up from its deadly grasp. This once lethal piece of wreckage had now become her life raft, her one chance at survival, as she collapsed in a dejected pile of fatigue. Just as she began to float along with all the wretched pieces of a once-proud neighborhood, she gave a haggard gasp and slipped into unconsciousness as her ragged lifeboat continued downstream. She drifted quickly, dark gently approaching, as destruction reached out on all sides of the flood's merciless path. She was unaware of just how far or for how long she was adrift with the fatal torrent. Just as the last light started to fade, she sensed movement that came not from the cold, murky water, but from something warm and firm. She felt herself lifted, freed from her dreadful tattered conveyance and possible demise. She heaved a labored breath as the sensation increased. The policeman’s strong hands had no problem extracting Camille from her deadly dilemma and placing her gently in the safety of the rescue boat, warm towels enveloped her as her rescuer rubbed her back into consciousness. She could just barely make out a soft voice gently crooning to her, coaxing her back into wakefulness. She could still feel the firm hands that had pulled her from deaths door. Her eyes fluttered, and she could just make out the smiling angled face of her rescuer. Absolute relief flowed through her being, and she laid her head on the man’s hand as he held her. There were no words she could use to express her gratefulness to her rescuer, no way for her to convey her absolute gratitude, she would never utter a whispered thank you into the ear of the man that saved her, simply because Camille was, in fact, a cat. A gentle purr was her only recourse to acknowledge the joy she felt at her rescue and he was content with that.
Crickets chipped in the early evening, their tune carrying far on the gentle breeze. The light patter of rain began, it sprinkled the ground darkening the earth and sidewalks. The rain had never bothered Camille, her thoughts a million miles away from the approaching downpour. The family had all left the house, out on some random errand. She liked them gone, the house peaceful and quiet. The house still for once, a quiet reprieve from family life. The gentle rap of small drops was no cause for alarm. She sat in the window gazing out at the incoming gale. The fading rays of the sun shone lightly through the impending storm. Farther out just beyond one’s vision the clouds were dark and heavy, laden with moisture eager to burst forth. The heavy rain seemed a world away, as Camille sat alone with her thoughts. Small rivers of dirty water gathered at the curbs of the street. The streamlets slithered like murky snakes along their path towards the gutter. Leaves and small pieces of grass peppered the water's surface and flowed along the gutter then vanished into its darkened maw. She did not notice the first small signs that hinted at the ordeal she was about to endure. She sat content to watch the storm pass from the comfort of her home. The small rivers that graced the curbs suddenly started to deepen. Slowly at first, but then with a quickness. She sat still transfixed by the quaint scene viewed out the window. Quiet houses standing proudly in a simple neighborhood. The first hint that something was truly amiss was a hum. A strange buzz that permeated the quiet scene. It soon gathered into a rumble, at first lost in the howl of wind that had kicked up with the oncoming storm. Not until it had become a full roar did the first acknowledgment of danger seep into Camille's awareness. She listened not registering the true meaning of the gathering din. It was just as a sense of dread started to sink in, reality exploded. The house was hit with such force that it seemed that the walls, which shattered like eggshells, had been hit by a speeding freight train. This train was not made of rot iron and steel but of a wall of dirty water that had impacted the house with such power that it sent Camille careening through the air, as if thrown by an angry giant. The flash flood ripped its way through the neighborhood tearing the house off its very foundation and rendering it asunder within seconds. Though all had seemed to happen in slow motion, she had no time to brace herself as she hit the torrent of dark water that now rushed through the space where the proud house had once stood. The watery beast enveloped all, no structure was safe from its lethal jaws. Instantly submerged, she flailed with frantic panic, not knowing anything of the act of swimming, but even that knowledge would not made much of a difference. The water tasted raw and earthy as she fought for breath. Her lungs screamed for air as time and time again she dipped back beneath the ragged waves. It choked and threatened to drown her as she fought with every part of her being just to keep her head above the water. Her strained muscles began to succumb to the waters icy embrace. Her strength began to fade as she battled against death itself. The dark water was full of all matter of debris, wood, uprooted trees, sad pieces of what once was. They floated along with the surging deluge like monsters out of an ancient nightmare, dragons created by the unfettered destruction of the flood. Logs, branches, remnants of destroyed houses all became battering rams’ intent on crushing her as she fought to stay afloat. She flailed, fought, struggled against the foul water that now enveloped her. Her mind was awash with the utter terror, her world throw into absolute chaos. she knew nothing of how or if she would survive. As the dismal mass of water was about to swallow her whole, to send her to those dark depths from which few ever escape, she realized that the deadly flotsam adrift in the squall could be her saving grace. Just as a large jagged unrecognizable mass of broken house sailed past her, she reached up with her nails and with all her might clung the piece of debris. As the dark water pulled, unwilling to release its grip on its exhausted victim, she heaved herself up from its deadly grasp. This once lethal piece of wreckage had now become her life raft, her one chance at survival, as she collapsed in a dejected pile of fatigue. Just as she began to float along with all the wretched pieces of a once-proud neighborhood, she gave a haggard gasp and slipped into unconsciousness as her ragged lifeboat continued downstream. She drifted quickly, dark gently approaching, as destruction reached out on all sides of the flood's merciless path. She was unaware of just how far or for how long she was adrift with the fatal torrent. Just as the last light started to fade, she sensed movement that came not from the cold, murky water, but from something warm and firm. She felt herself lifted, freed from her dreadful tattered conveyance and possible demise. She heaved a labored breath as the sensation increased. The policeman’s strong hands had no problem extracting Camille from her deadly dilemma and placing her gently in the safety of the rescue boat, warm towels enveloped her as her rescuer rubbed her back into consciousness. She could just barely make out a soft voice gently crooning to her, coaxing her back into wakefulness. She could still feel the firm hands that had pulled her from deaths door. Her eyes fluttered, and she could just make out the smiling angled face of her rescuer. Absolute relief flowed through her being, and she laid her head on the man’s hand as he held her. There were no words she could use to express her gratefulness to her rescuer, no way for her to convey her absolute gratitude, she would never utter a whispered thank you into the ear of the man that saved her, simply because Camille was, in fact, a cat. A gentle purr was her only recourse to acknowledge the joy she felt at her rescue and he was content with that.
