Falling Water

• Sam Lewis, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2008

Geography class. I sit alone. Not paying attention. The rain starts, trickling at first before gradually working its way up to a full downpour. The raindrops bang against school’s tin roof, drowning out all ambient sounds and creating an illusion of separation from the rest of the world. A feeling I wish would last forever.

The bell rings. Lunchtime. I step out from under the roof. The illusion of isolation lost. A drop of rain hits my skin. It stings, numbing me momentarily. Quickly, I move back under shelter. The rain eventually becomes reduced to a trickle, but I know as soon as I walk out from the protection of the school buildings that it’ll start up again. Bag strapped to my back I make my way to the cafeteria, not daring to go outside. Not daring to face my fears.

I sit alone at a table in the middle of the room and unpack my food. The hustle and bustle of a normal school day pushes me into a heightened sense of awareness. A car screeches across a slick surface to a stop outside the school. I too begin sliding, sliding back towards a storm of memory..

Not a cloud in the sky. A perfect day. Radio on, spirits high. All three of us sing along, garbling the words to an unfamiliar pop song embracing its five minutes of fame on the local radio station. Up and up we go, to the top of the grassy, tree filled mountain. A perfect day for a picnic. Dad maneuvers the car around the tight corners while Mum smiles back at me from the front passenger seat, staring lovingly into my eyes. I sit alone in the back, secured tightly in my booster seat, hardly a day beyond five.

Finally, we reach the top of the mountain. Dad parks the car and gets out to unload the picnic gear. I unbuckle myself from the booster seat and wait for Mum to come and open my door. We sit on a woven woolen rug and eat under the shade of a tree, carefully avoiding the sun’s rays. We spend what seems like hours, sitting, eating, laughing. Then, like an unwanted guest a grey, jagged storm cloud appears overhead, blocking out the sun. Ruining our day.

Dad hurries Mum and me to the car, desperately wanting to beat the storm home. Desperate to ensure our safety. The rain has started now, and the road is wet. The car wobbles as it rounds the bends to get down the mountain, Dad struggling to maintain his grip on the steering wheel.

Lighting. Thunder. I shriek in fear, distracting Dad for a bare millisecond. That’s all it takes. The car flips and starts rolling. Mum turns back to me. She loses all initial fear and shows only affection. She places a hand over my chest and secures me in my seat with ferocious strength. Abruptly, the driver’s seat door smashes into a tree and completely falls off. Dad holds on for his life. The car continues to roll.

Suddenly, a violent jerk causes Dad to hit his head on the car’s roof, immediately knocking him unconscious. With nothing securing him, his limp body gets thrown out of the open door. Mum looks at his rolling, lifeless body for only a second, her face showing more emotion than any words could explain. Yet still she presses down on me. Determined to keep me out of harm’s way. The car gradually slows, Mum secures me just as tight. The car suddenly lurches, hitting a rouge tree. The windscreen shatters first, glass flying everywhere before the car rests on its side for only a moment, righting itself with a bang.

Mum is trapped by her seatbelt. Her legs are positioned at eerie angles in relation to the rest of her body. She no longer has the same grip on me as before and her arm begins to withdraw. She seems to have trouble breathing. She mouths ‘I love you’ with her last breath before the sharp, cruel raindrops banging against all sides of the car, drown out all other sounds. I sit in my car seat. Safe. Mother and Father dead. Protected by my mother’s love. The rain washes away my mother’s blood. Clearing her away. As if she was all but a dream..

The bell rings to signal the end of lunch. To break me away from my memories. I trudge to my next class. Not caring. The end of the day seemingly comes as the bell, tired after a long day, lets out its slow ring.

I hurry to make it home before the rain starts again. I run. Scared. The rain, a mind of its own, starts again. I stand still, at the rain’s mercy. Not caring. Wanting the rain to take me. Like it took my parents. Yet I know it won’t. The rain doesn’t do favours. I’ll have to do the dirty work myself this time. Because I’ve yet to see a cloud with a silver lining.