Dark Waters

Darkness. It swallowed everything. Everything it touched turned cold, like a deep, dark pool of water crushing in around you and you can’t move. You can’t move because you’re too scared. You can’t move because that lecherous water is too damn cold, it steals your breath away, and you search for hope. That small remnant of light far above your head, meters above your head. For a hand to break that surface and reach out for you; pull you out just as your burning lungs feel the coolness of water and you splutter uncontrollably as you break surface, amazed that you just might not have made it. Not this time. That’s how Isa felt often these days, every time he stepped out the door. Every damn time. It’s the Coming he was told, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Isa stood in the middle of the aisle, stacking tomato cans on the shelves when his vision suddenly darkened without warning. The hairs on the back of his neck remained relaxed, yet, the water rushed around him, freezing him on the spot. He treaded water, struggling forever toward that dancing surface. These vision usually ended just in time for him to catch his breath.

A beautiful young woman drove her small red 3-door down a quiet, multilane road. She seemed hurried. Anxious, waiting at each red traffic light she hit with a bit of angst than the last. Her eyes darting to the rear-view mirror again, and again. Her petite head turning on her pretty little neck, expecting to see something, but the road was empty. As the light turned, she hit the peddle, and from the side road a four wheel drive ploughed into her. The lights spun around her. The crunching glass deafening, her shrill scream ringing in Isa’s ear.

Isa broke the surface and took a desperate breath. No. No. No, no. Not again. His limbs shook and his body rippled with goosebumps. He eyed his watched, anxious to get out of there and get on the road. Anxious to see if it had happened again. His wrist watch told him there was another hour and half to go before his work finished. An hour and a half was a long time to wait to see if a girl had lost her life on the road. An hour and a half wait to see if he needed to worry about the cold river water next time. The worst his visions had ever shown were injuries. Were they showing him deaths now?

Only Isa knows how hard those minutes were that night. As soon as clock struck midnight, Isa was out the door, driving home, via the very road he’d seen in the Dark Waters. The closer he got to the junction in question the harder it was not to tremble in fear, but as it turned out, Isa had nothing but dreamed, and that’s all he hoped it was. A dream. A horrid, unwelcome dream. He glanced at the quiet road as the lights turned green, and pressed the peddle…

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