It Wasn't Time

Reality is only a dream...

Just like the theater reel in the old days, complete with the "whirring" sound. My cinematic debut as a director began with the hustle and bustle of people going to work. Car horns honking at every crowded intersection. People of all heights and professional attires taking quick 1-2 1-2-1 steps on the sidewalk to beat the rush hour traffic. Hot dog vendors layering on the ketchup and mustard on top of the red onion, all placed onto the plump meat oozing with the juicy flavors before handing it off to each hungry person waving a $10 bill in the air. Business workers conversing hastily on their cell phones as they prance down the street, glancing at their watches, stopping abruptly to hail the next empty taxi within reach. The hazy skies swept right past me, adding to a much preferred cinematic background: auburn gold to a lavender purple as the sun retreated back under its warm covers.

The camera panned over to the left. Appearing in front of a group of teenagers freestyling to the hip-hop beat vibrating out of their boombox was a Lexus. A light maroon colored Lexus with two distinct dents on the front passenger door. Little did everyone know, a flash flood was looming beyond the peaceful horizon of the bustling city. Anything can happen in a movie, right? Reality is only imagined. Here it came! My role as director did not exclude me from imminent doom. Fear must have cascaded over everyone's faces, but I couldn't tell because the flood came so abruptly. Everyone and everything was encapsulated in the water, even the food stands that held their ground when surrounded by 10 to 12 ravenous patrons on a normal work day, every minute.

Two distinct streams were paved in the street from the powerful force of the water, loud crashing noises and eerie creaking sounds of buildings being torn from their foundations.

I hadn't planned for the movie to end that way. I didn't want to be engulfed by water. I wanted the movie to elaborate onto itself... what happened to that old lady who was helped across the street by a homeless man in the busiest intersection? Who would have won the freestyle contest?

And just like that, the eight-second flash flood came and went, swept to either side of the pavement. Everything returned to peace and quiet as it was before the disaster.

Everything... except my reality. It wasn't time to leave him. It wasn't time to go.

Author's Note

This short story is meant to open the doors to different interpretations... I use a lot of metaphors and wordplay :) I hope you enjoyed reading it!