Bench facing the Open Sea, Beach spread out underneath the sky. Torment of Rain. Urban hellscape engulfing the world.
Straw sat on the single cement bench that was not tainted by a single drop of water, the rains had scrubbed the streets clean of scum. The sand on the beach was the doormat underneath the door to the house of aqua. Straw looked around to acclimate itself with its surroundings; it saw houses that were knee deep in water, vehicles and street litter were floating in the water as if they were sea otters searching for their mate family and humans had run off to higher ground as they feared the unknown currents that the water brought along itself.
The scenery around Straw was escaping itself, like a painting was trying to catch itself before it was painted, the colors were revealing their true colors as the rains washed away the layers that hid the truth of our world. The water had become muddied after cleansing the streets, the grime and soil had tainted the pure blue waters into mimicking the earth. It was no longer water that roamed the streets freely.
Straw sensed a familiarity in the mixture that had formed in the water, it was calling towards Straw. Afraid to dip even a pinky into the unknown, Straw drew itself into a fetal position and started rocking itself to comfort. Straw didn’t know whether the familiarity was recognized hostility or hospitality. It was easy to get roped into the current and just like the soil, which was washed off the cracks in the pavement, Straw would get machine washed into the current and it would turn him inside out.
There was no notion of the sun peeking through the windows and shining a ray of light down on the path Straw had to take; he abandoned his faith in hope and it finding its way towards it. He looked towards the horizon, there was nothing to see, mist and rain had drawn the curtains on the horizon, there was nothing to look forward to anymore.
So, Straw stopped looking, it dipped its legs into the water, it didn’t matter if it made it out alive by the end of this journey, it knew that the water wasn’t going to subside soon, someone had to open the gutters and drain the fluids from this body. Straw didn’t want to live fearing and hoping for the sun to shine or the rain to stop, it just knew it had to move, to vacate the bench is to offer the opportunity for someone else to sit on it.
Straw felt the water as the skin on his hands; it was of his own making. The rains merely reflected the passing of the heart’s will to continue beating. There was no giving up, only continuing what was set in motion. The sun never shone, but Straw found the light at the end of the tunnel.