Onsiks

The sunny afternoon had slipped away into a cool evening as I thought of you. The bus stop bench I sat at began to quake.

The bus pulled up and stopped in front of me. I suddenly noticed that it was filled with water like a fish tank. The water pushed against the windows, making them crack and pop. The top window on the right side finally broke open, releasing a waterfall onto the paved sidewalk before me. The pool grew larger, flooding down the side of the street to the intersection at the end. There, I saw that a number of the stores, including the drug store and the bank on opposite corners, were also filled and already overflowing through shattered windows and doors with clear water.

Behind me, the grocery store's automatic sliding doors opened, releasing a roaring rush. The foaming water hit the bench as I tried to run out of the way, instead having my legs kicked up, flung onto my rear. The water poured around my ears and neck as I struggled to stand. A few dozen watermelons that had been in a bin outside the grocer's flowed past me and into the street.

The driver's side door opened on a pickup truck that was half submerged in the flood. A man came out, gray-haired and bearded, riding towards me on a wave. The man and myself collided and we spun in the rising torrents. The water circled insanely, carrying everything with it, be it post box or newspaper. I kicked off from the man and tried to get to safety. It helped that I was a practiced swimmer and could tread water and hold my breath for lengths of time. I hoped the old man could, too, although I didn't stop to check.

I swam to the lower branches of a tall oak tree that grew near the drug store and hoisted myself up. Scrambling upwards through the tree's arms, I glanced down and saw a blonde, curly-haired boy, perhaps five or six years old, climbing after me as best he could. He was slow, however, his arms still too short for reaching and pulling his weight. I watched as the rising water swirled about his ankles, which kicked and groped out for a good hold on the branches. A wave, massive and speedy, swept through, entirely covering the little boy like a cold blanket. When it had passed, my pursuer was gone.

I climbed to the very tops of the oak tree and went out on the sturdiest limb I could find, carefully stepping out towards the roof of the drug store, about six feet away. At the end of the branch, as it began to creek dangerously downwards, holding my weight, I bounced and leaped, one foot forward. I landed, my stomach on the edge of the roof, my legs over the side, and quickly tried to get a hold with my hands onto something. The roof was flat and bare, my hands were wet, and no grip could be made on the surface. I slid backwards quickly and fell over the edge.

I reached out as I was falling, and below me and to the right there was an American flag sticking out of the building over where the entrance had been. My right arm hit this and I wrapped it around the sturdy flagpole. I hung there for a moment, in a daze. The water was the only sound I could hear, pouring, rushing, rising to get me.

With much effort, I pulled myself up, using the building's brick wall to kick against for support and slowly stood on the pole. My feet strained to keep their balance on the metal as I looked around. The water had now risen so that only the taller tree tops and larger buildings were visible. The bank was entirely gone and as I watched, the traffic signals strung across the intersection crept, bubbling, into the water. There was no one to be seen, no cries for help, no weeping faces. The sun had begun to set and the open skies turned a mellow blue. I was alone.

I turned and saw that I was still close to the roof, if I could just jump to grab the edge. I bent my knees, ready to make the fateful leap, and then the flag pole broke with a loud, gut-slicing snap.

I fell back into the turmoil, the water closing around me. I sank surprisingly fast and all thoughts of swimming were pointless. What good would it be to swim in an endless pool? What good would it be to fight when it would only draw out the pain? I decided to give up.

I sank to the paved streets once more, now quieter and filled with shadow. The dark shapes of cars, and the bus, and the bus stop bench were now eery and seemed almost more significant than they had been dry. Everything was heavier, everything held more weight in the deep ocean. Small things, leaves carried past in the blue, gentle current, were bloated yet clear and sharp.

I thought of how that young boy and that old man were both now probably dead. I thought of all the others that were dead. I thought of how I would soon be dead. And then I thought again of you. I thought of you being dead.

That was a sudden shift, a wind that seemed to shuttle from my mind to my heart and back to my mind again. As I stretched out on the pavement and drowned, I thought of you. I thought of your mouth as you asked questions. I thought of your hands as you snapped your fingers. I thought of your eyes as you closed them to sleep on my shoulder.

At this point a wind filled into my chest. I said your name out loud. To the blue and black world that was now so strange, so deadly, yet still familiar, I said your name.

I found that this breath had more to it than I could ever have guessed, for this breath grew around me, so that in front of my face there bubbled out a pocket of air. The pocket grew until it wrapped around my head and expanded down my neck and chest. At first I was too afraid to breath again, but then I did, and again, and again.

The air pocket encased my entire body, lastly, slipping over my worn shoes. I stood up in this bubble in the middle of the dreary world, unsure of what to do. I started to walk and as I did, the bubble streamed off of me, remaining safely around me but leaving a tunnel of air in my wake.

I walked down to the bus stop and found the young boy, dead and floating slowly across the sidewalk away from me. I hurried to him and grabbed his arm as he was about to slide under the bus. The air bubble seeped up his arm, over his shoulder and neck, and into his mouth. He suddenly moved and blinked his eyes. He stood up, now just as I was, safely encased in air. We continued to hold hands as we walked towards the intersection, neither of us saying a word, neither of us needing to.

It was very dark, perhaps eight o'clock. We came to the old man, who was caught, body stuck against a street light pole as the current pushed on him. Both the boy and myself bent down and touched the old man's face. The air pocket moved across his wrinkled features and into his mouth and nose. He too, opened his eyes, stared at us, and stood up slowly, bones sore from his less comfortable positioning. As the air took to the old man's body, it crossed over to the light pole that he had laid his hand upon. The air swept up the tall pole and out to the lamp, where the light bulb flickered and shone a brilliant orange into the dark water.

My new friends and I continued on in silence through the silent streets, reviving a woman and a small puppy she had been walking, and a teenager with a skateboard who was stuck in the bushes outside the bank. We journeyed far that night as the white stars circled and shone bright, even through the ceiling of deep water. We drew to us a crowd and soon we were talking again, and laughing at the miracle.

I had a realization that day, and I am not speaking of the appearance of the air bubble or the mysterious flooding. Because even if you are truly gone forever from my life, even if I never see you again, to tell you how things should have gone, how things could have worked out, I had a realization. I had a realization that I am not sorry for the memories I kept of you. I am not sorry for the decisions I made. I am happy that such things exist, that such things can help me to grow, can help me to step up to the challenges of the universe and to do the impossible.

Because in this day and age, the impossible is what needs to be done for the world to find peace once more.

__________________
"...For I have never seen a sun that did not bury its head in the side of the world when the day was done." -SR

Taxiday

generally good writing with some grammer problems - but (knew that was coming, didn't you?) I DON'T LIKE YOUR CHARACTER! She had a chance and didn't save the little kid. Or even try!