Part of a weekly challenge provided by Laura Gabrielle Feasey at http://ismithwords.com.
Drops of water. Plunk! Plunk! Plunk! A small little trail of glistening jewels. Destined to a fate of crashing against cast iron. An unnatural clock ticking away time. Plunk! Plunk! Plunk!
Thirty feet above black wire drapes between brick buildings. The black wrought iron window boxes and black metal fire escapes color the dark alley way. Shade has obscured most of the scene. Windows lend a poor accent. Closer to the ground a dark patch takes over . A pool of water starts to isolate the world of the alley. It’s path heads to a cover of iron. The smasher of glistening jewels and origin of the growing pond is unaware of its role.
High above a small change is brewing. The drops begin to gather closer together. Their size increases. The light catches them and bounces off with a flash. The strobing path shows its full path to the cable. A silvery snake silvers back to the building. The metal railings light up as the snake crawls upward. The fire escape is alive with shimmering stream.
A low groan falls from the roof. Creaking noises follow. The wind picks up and hides the sound from the ground. The water drops string together louder. Plunks are now drips. Steady methodical sounds become more staccato beats. Tempo turning up.
A larger groan cries out. The sound is of failure. Creaking wooden boards loosen their burden. Small lines of water appear through the gaps of the water holding tank. Thousands of gallons to feed the building below are on the journey to freedom. Ten foot tall boards ringing a twenty foot wooden barrel have served their time. One board has tried to hold back the water’s constant pressure but subsided. It’s neighbors struggle to hold on. The water forces through twisting ever so slightly. The gaps barely grow and the water triples in size and volume. A last second pitch to restrain fails. Five boards give. A torrent rushes across the roof. Ten stories below the sounds are about to change.
The iron cover splashes a steady stream of water. The hair thin line grows to a pencil. A thin column of light in a dreary alley. The sight brings a couple of glances. But the sounds above mix into the city’s din. A lone person stops. Phone in hand ready to capture the moment in time.
The deluge breaks free. In a blink of an eye, the wave crests the buildings edge. The water line disappears. Replaced by an arc reaching the neighboring building. Water fills the chasm. Crashing sounds roar. The lone person is no match. Seconds split. The speed of the water is amazing. Water eats the world below. A giant mouth flashes then spits everything out in the street. The lone person sent tumbling against parked car. Phone bouncing on to the hood. Cardboard hidden from the light rushes across the street. Traffic halts as the debris field races out. The world of motion and noise halts to catch its breath.
Then in another moment, the world carries on. 2320 Huston Street fades back into the shadows. A little different but not changed.
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