Water

This piece of paper was found in the top floor of a farmhouse owned by C. Isaac 36 days after the rain began

The old farmhouse is crumbling into small, smooth pieces. 

The rain has not stopped for nineteen days.  No one knows why.  The sun has just gone away, replaced by gray endless clouds. 

I haven't complained.  Everyone is complaining.  What will we do? Are we all going to die?

Does it really matter?  It was something we have no control over.

The first couple days were alright.  Sure is raining a lot!  Miss the sun! Can’t wait for it to warm up!

After 6 days people began to panic.  Most of the cities that were below sea level or near it had sank.  Up here, in our mountain community, where we grew cotton, people had begun flocking up to higher ground.  The rain had washed many cities away, and people were crying “Apocalypse! He’s coming back! He’s washing us away!”

I laughed.

My brother had gone to see our mother in Tennessee after the third day of raining, claiming “He wanted to see her one last time.”  I think the weather had gotten to him.  I think staying inside had given him cabin fever.  Dealing with me for more than 30 hours was a chore, obviously.

I had waved him goodbye, watching him slide out of the driveway, never to be seen again.

The rain tipped and tapped on my roof.

I lived by candlelight at this point, as power had gone out across the world.  Electricity wasn’t much fun when water was surrounding you.

The President had declared “National Emergency” or some shit yesterday.  That was day 18. We’re on 19 right?

Some people in town have begun to build boats.  The ground is wet a mush now.  My farm has turned into a greenish-brown pile of shit. 

I’ve been by myself for-32 years? (That’s a joke) 16 days-it was heaven.  I didn’t want to see another human for as long as I lived.  I hoped the rain would wash me away.

But it hadn’t-HASN’t-yet.  My first floor was flooded.  There was no trying to communicate with anyone outside.  Even the squatters had moved farther upland.  There wasn’t much running they could do.  I can tell, it’s all over.  I couldn’t be happier.

My wife had killed herself 32 years ago.  I came inside from the farm to find her hanging from some rope, from rope that was from this farm.  It was funny, to think about that. A desperate cackle may escape my throat every few days.  That’s about the only thing that comes out.

Surprisingly, there were no looters.  We only had a couple stores, and not many people came through town.  A few young people, who camped in our yard for about 3 days, were the only ones I personally saw.  The rain let up, and then it would begin to pour.  It was random.

No matter what, throughout the day though, the drops would hit my roof, pitter patter, tick tock, the clock goes round, round the clock it goes, pitter patter, drip drop.

After 18 days the government had given up, I think.  Even the radio went off.

Now I sit alone, in the attic, listening to the rain.  Watching out the small, circular window that overlooks the farm.  Looking outside gives me a sense of hopelessness, but was it anything new? Was anything I had experienced in this life worthwhile?

If anyone finds this, which I doubt, because it is all about to end, then I hope you have fun.  I hope the world started anew.  I hope this is indecipherable.

Want to know what I see outside?

A lake.

And I think it’s about time I took a swim.