Flash Fiction: Blood Flood, alt-J

By: Natasha Aidoo

Naomi is speechless. 

Her words stuck in the past, in a time frame where consequences are irrelevant.

She closes her eyes and starts focusing on her breathing. Breathe in, exhale. An alt-J song comes to mind. In desperate times, music appears and simplifies everything. The thought, a blissful distraction from the disaster that is taking place right now. In and out. 

She feels the panic slowly fading. Allowing her to attemp a logical sentence and reaction.

She didn't see this coming. She can't grasp the way the situation just unraveled in a catastrophic way. 

How to manage? How to get up from such a fall?

People expect her to acknowledge the fact, process it all, regroup and then spring back to action. 

“How?,” she asks herself, “How?”

Why is this an automatic response to a predicament? She wants to linger in that uncomfortable ocean, to dissect each aspect of that unexpected chaos, to wonder about her options without rushing or pressure.  With patience, with a gaze anchored to every time tense, with peace, grace, and compassion.  

She wants to move through those sensations.  And not to simply move on. To jump from this to that sounds easy, but at which cost? She prefers to devote her time to understanding, suffering, healing and digging deep into herself and the environment surrounding her. Introspection as daily bread. She knows it will be a challenge. She feels excitement and fear in her bones. Nevertheless, Naomi is aware of the necessity of that step. 

She steps outside. The dawn drowns her with its gorgeous colours. She stops to absorb the sounds, the silences and the view. She inhales them all at once. She enjoys how careless and light, while the village is asleep, that instant leaves her. As she smokes, she reflects on the fleeting essence of life. She used to be terrified of losing people, feelings, and memories. Uncertainty, her enemy. 

Now her perception has changed. She has learned to accept, one way or another, this truth, to extract a lesson from it. She needs to be present, to appreciate each encounter as much as possible, and bond, to transform that fear into awareness. Value isn't connected to permanence. 

She doesn't know what to do. She has the whole day at her disposal. Should she immerse herself in the magic of those early hours? Should she take advantage of her luck and go to bed? As she tries to decide, she puts a record on. Music has the power to direct her. She gets lost in the melodies, in the lyrics, and in the never-ending wonder she feels in her soul. Familiarity filled with novelty. 

She has made a choice. She will go to the lake, to capture with her camera the stillness of that time of day, to fill her eyes, ears, and mind with the quiet vitality of that aquatic environment.

The lake is flickering. Seagulls and ducks keep her company. She looks at the sky above and imagines herself among those wonderful clouds. Looking down below at herself, while she stares upwards. Caught in a loop. 

The sky is of a deep yet subtle hue of blue. A shade that sticks to your eyes and won't let go. Tasting like nostalgia and melancholy, making the whole atmosphere special and unique. She can't quite figure out what is in the air. She just knows that her existence is a marvelous labyrinth. Mistakes are part of the deal. Multiple exists to be found. Surprises at every corner.

She lies down. It's her and nature. She's on her own in the middle of it. Her solitude in that moment can be defined as romantic. She closes her eyes and breathes in the sublime. The sound of the waves crashing. Her personal lullaby. The melting residue of the sunset left in the clouds. The relativity of the human experience: the possibility to feel small, and yet connected to the universe. Or disconnected. 

A picturesque dimension. 

She could stay there for hours. 

Maybe she will.

Who knows.

FictionNatasha Aidoo