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.