Monday, December 12, 2022

Saturday, December 10, 2022

Friday, December 2, 2022

The Water Under Mama's Dream by Preston Brady III

And then the cardboard box shriveled, torn, gave in to the forces of the water it had moments before floated upon. As she held the box a photo fell out and found a new home among the debris in the basement. Nicole was thankful it landed face-up. It's weird, she thought, how the picture remained stored down here for years, and now, after the flood it became a symbol of all life. It was the statement of truth, so powerful words belied it. It was mama, in her favorite lavender blouse. She was leaning against daddy's 57 Chevy, half-smiling, her eyes squinted to block out the evening sun. Mama, this house was not supposed to flood. It's in a non-flood zone. All my stuff suddenly captured in the moment of catastrophe. Now the tears poured from Nicole's crystal blue eyes, a culmination of stored failures and regrets. It's ironic how time can bundle itself into a symbolic, parabolic lesson. All the good fades away. The power of nature has no heart, nor should it, she thought. 

The Deluge

It began to rain. Those swimming lessons paid off.