The Flood

Time to link up your Red Writing Hood post!

This week Galit and Angela asked you to write a short fiction or non based on the following picture:

photo credit

You were only allowed 400 words or fewer.

Could you handle it?

I was covered in mud. Sticky, stinky, wet mud. It was summer and I was supposed to be feeling salt water and sand. I was out of my depth but I knew that I was exactly where I supposed to be.  

I was somewhat surprised at her courage but knew that after two straight days of just watching the news, she wouldn’t sit still. In the silence when she couldn’t take anymore if I listened hard enough I could hear her heart breaking for the people who were losing their homes, belongings and loved ones in the water that just kept coming and rising and flowing and taking.  She listened to The Voice of the One who speaks into her heart that told her to “Go” and one by one the opportunities lined themselves up like a trail of crumbs leading her out of the woods and towards a beacon of light. 

And now here we were in the suburbs of Brisbane in the relentless rain on our hands and knees together cleaning living areas and even though it was impossible attempting to scrub away the pain and the memories of the water and the mud that rose and seeped into the cracks like an unwelcome visitor that just came in and stayed. And took so much away. 

Later as we walked together, thinking about the piles of lives on the side of the road that reporters were calling rubbish, back to the home of the lady who had listened to The Voice of the One who spoke to her heart and invited her to stay, she stopped still when the glimpse of a pair of beady eyes hidden in the grass.

A teddy bear looked back at her with eyes full of wisdom and sorrow for what he had seen.  I knew she was thinking about his owner and wondering if there was a child out there who was missing their friend. Her fingers itched to take a photo, to capture this moment, to remember this day that had changed her in ways that would take weeks to process. Her fingers hovered over her pocket but then she closed her eyes and told herself never to forget the beauty of stepping out in faith and holding out a hand to help. 

I watched her smile later on that evening as she soaked her feet in the pool, her fingers hovering over her pocket as she reached over and took a photo while I sat clean and dry and mud free just wondering what the next day would bring.

x Black Ipanemas

In January this year flash flooding and rising waters had devastating effects on small country towns and the suburbs of Brisbane.  Many livelihoods, homes and sadly some lives were lost. I listened to that small, still voice and booked a flight and stepped out in faith, staying with a lady that I didn't know, not knowing what to expect when I got there. I was just one of more than a thousand volunteers that held out their hands and pulled on their gumboots ( and Ipanemas! ) to help in those weeks. Below are some of the photos that I did take, photos I felt like I could take away with me.

Just one of the streets about four days into the clean up

There was aspestos in a lot of the old houses. The Army made me (and everyone else) wear this!

Yes. Ahhh. Sore feet but glad they came.

 

Polaroid Moments

Today's prompt is courtesy of Kir.

One of my favorite parts of summer is THE SHOES. So for your prompt this week I'd like you to write about your character (or yourself) and a pair of his or her shoes.

Those shoes can be real or symbolic, they can hurt or be super comfy but I want to see what they say about the life of the person wearing them. It's a chance to use all those descriptive words I love reading.

 

We’ve been friends for about eight or so years now so we’ve got a good thing going so I’m fairly certain that she’s not going to get rid of me any time soon. 

I hope. 

I’ve been wanting to tell my story for a while but now it’s my turn I can’t make up my mind which one to tell you.  We hang out together so often and have shared so many significant moments it’s crazy. But you know, I think there have been as many moments that have seemed insignificant at the time but when we’ve both looked back they have become one of those Polaroid moments. One of those memories that shape who you were and who you will become like they take a life of their own and become fused into your soul. 

I remember the morning we woke up with our bags packed ready for an overseas adventure of a lifetime. The backpack was stuffed far too full, something she would learn not to do in the future so to bring home as many new enemies competition fellow country men colleagues as possible, and the flight for our month long trip away was due out later that afternoon. Plenty of time to relax, enjoy the airport atmosphere, book in early get the best seat. Easy.

Or so we thought. 

I was startled when the phone rang that morning. We left rather in a rush but I thought we were headed for the airport because she was excited for her holiday adventure to begin.

No, she was anxious. 

I could tell by the way she tapped her foot on the floor and that action in itself made me anxious too.  I was concerned when I saw the words ‘HOSPITAL’ flash by as we raced with all her bags down the longest corridor I had ever experienced.

Now I was worried. 

Until  I realised where we were and why we were there. 

Timing is everything.

When she booked her ticket months ago her closest friend was barely pregnant and was due well and truly clear of her trip. Well it seemed that this baby had other plans.  Today was the day.

Bags were thrown with abandon in the waiting room, and we sat down cross legged on the floor with a novel ready to settle in for a wait, only to end up in the birthing room with her friend, her husband and the Grandmother to be. Not what we thought we would be doing when we woke up this morning at all!

So we made ourselves as useful as we could that day. Walked down corridors for coffee and sandwiches, salt and vinegar chips and bottles of Coke. We told stories, chatted, laughed, were silent and thankful for the privilege of just being part of this miracle and watched the numbers and prayed and asked God for protection and safety.  

The clock kept ticking on and despite assurances that this baby was coming, knowing this child now it was no surprise that she was doing this at her own pace, reluctantly we knew it was time to leave or risk missing this flight.

So with a heavy heart we said goodbye, found our taxi and sped off.

Her tears dripped heavy on me for the duration of the journey.

We were in a ridiculously long line, waiting to check in. The tears had stopped but the anxious foot tapping had begun again. I knew that she was concerned about where she would sit for the flight and what was happening back at the hospital.

For the second time that day the phone startled me when it rang.

And for the second time that day a tear ran from her face, down her cheek and dropped on me.

Her closest friend had taken another step in life. Another leap of faith. Not just gone from a single carefree chickie to wife. But now she was also a Mummy. To a beautiful baby girl. 

A beautiful baby girl who bears the middle name ‘Victoria’. 

And as we got on that flight, she was a little teary but a little lighter in heart knowing that when we came home she would get to meet that little girl who whose middle name is her own. Polaroid memories fused into her sole.

x Aqua “Chucks” Converse

Well that was a fun week to come back to and write. Thanks for making it an easy week for me. I was going to write about the shoes that walked me through my Grandmother's funeral this time last week, but "we" are still trying to work through the words together. 

PS Of course I bought this Little Miss in this story a pair of pink baby Chucks of her own. They were so cute. Oh, and she's 7 1/2 now. Does this tell you how much I love these shoes?  ;)