8. When It Rains, It Pours

It felt like a damn 747 hit the building the way the thunder shook the loft.  It made my teeth clank together! I can hear the rain, but with no windows other than the sky lights, I have no idea how bad it is.  Jesus!!  The thunder came again sounding like another airplane crash this time rattling random artwork off the walls and dishes in the cabinet.  I don’t know if I should seek shelter in the bathtub or duck and cover under the desk!  Duck and cover… well at least I can provide myself with some comic relief while I freak out about the storm.  I haven’t heard that term since I was in grade school.

As the lights start flickering with the rolling thunder, I can only assume there is a shit ton of lightning with a storm like this. The sky lights don’t seem to have darkened with the storm, so I really can’t tell much about this storm other than the sound.  I guess at least I’m safe in here…wherever here is.

Then I see it.  The rain water has started seeping in from under that door to hell which happens to be under the stairs to no where.  Seriously, wherever the fuck I am, this is getting more disturbing.  There seems to be a great lack of towels in this place so I do what I can to roll the bathroom and kitchen towels and stuff them under the door.

The water is still coming in and instead of seeping, it’s now flowing like a stream.  Great.  I run into the bedroom area knowing there are no clothes in the wardrobe but looking anyway.  The bed sheets!!  I pull them off and start laying those in front of the door as tightly as I can.  The thunder is still booming and the lights still flickering.  I wonder if I should be standing in this stream of rain water.  What if the place is struck by lightning?!  At least I can be thankful that this isn’t acid rain like what I had been burned by in the city.

The water is now ankle deep and still flowing.  I have no clue what to do.  There are no carpets to soak, only the wooden floor throughout.  There is nothing here that will get wet that I care about because I have no idea where I am or whose stuff this is.  Well hell’s bells…why am I worried about this then?!

Without warning, the sonic boom of thunder announces its presence again and I can’t help but jump.  I sit on one of the high back bar stools near the kitchen area island and watch.  I should be safe here.  What can I do?  I guess I can just sit here and try to enjoy the sounds since I can’t quite stop the rain from coming in.  I can enjoy the sounds of the rain, but there is one sound that is disturbing.  It sounds like there are actual waves hitting the door from which the rain stream is flowing.  It may be my imagination, but it seems like the door strains then settles with each wave crash.  This can’t be happening.

“I always loved the sound of rain,” I say to myself to try to calm my nerves.  It’s true.  There is something about rain that is soothing.  It’s a steadiness that comes from the rhythm of the rain on the rooftop, the interjection of thunder, almost like a symphonic crescendo or an accent bringing me from the calm lull of rainfall to the present moment.  Oh and the cool air.  I wish I could feel the cool air that the rain brings.  If it were my choice, I would be hanging out on the front porch of a cabin somewhere on retreat and enjoying this to the fullest with a beer in hand.

But No.  I’m stuck in this God forsaken place, have no fucking idea why I am here or how I got here, and there is a torrential downpour taunting me from outside and from behind the door to hell.  I try to beat the counter with my left fist but it is much less dramatic than I expected since my left arm is missing.  Funny how I can forget that I am missing an appendage.  I know understand the phantom feelings amputees talk about.  At least I’m dry.

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The door to hell bursts open and with it a wave taller than me breaks through the loft.  I’m washed back against the wall hitting my head against the brick with a thud.  Furniture and knickknacks are coming at me each time the wave reaches, then the potential weapons ebb with the wave as it retreats.  I’m doing all I can to swim closer to the door because the only actual high ground in this place is the spiral stairway to nowhere.  The waves are strong, pulling me under with such force that I’m reminded of a riptide.  There must be an undercurrent.  I’m afraid to envision anything that may be in the water other than furniture.

The water is cold, so cold.  Why is rain cold like this?  Each time I surface, I gasp for breath knowing I’ll just be sucked under again but still I struggle to get to the stairs.  My lungs are burning and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die as I dodge lamps and the couch, even the heavy ass antique Royal typewriter has succumb to this potential drowning.

I finally make it to the banister of the stairs and pull myself up with my one good arm.  I crawl to the top of the stairs, sitting bent over forward at the waist so I don’t hit my head on the ceiling and choke up the water that I sucked into my lungs.  The waves continue to ebb and flow, but they seem to be subsiding.  I can’t feel the five fingers that I have left and my toes are blue.

I can’t help it, but the tears start rolling.  This is so frustrating!  I’m being tortured and I don’t know why or by whom.  I look to the ceiling hoping for an escape hatch or something, but there is none.  The sky lights look more fake than I had initially thought.  Now they seem as though they are just blocks that may have some lights behind them.  Damn it to hell. Besides, I should be more positive, I don’t particularly need an escape yet.  All of this water should…go somewhere when the storm is over right? Just like a flooded street after a hard rain, the water GOES somewhere…right?

Again I am proved wrong.  The waves stop.  The thunder stops.  The sound of rain stops.  The water in the loft, though still at this point, begins to rise.  There is no escape hatch, there is nothing!!! As it reaches my hips and then my chest, I am about to give up.  Fuck it.  Drown me.  Get me out of this hell.  But oh no, my macho Type A attitude kicks in and the only thing I think to do is swim.  Swim towards the door as it’s been the only way “out” the whole time I have been here…however long it has been.  Hopefully there will be a way to get out from under this cold water because after the last dowsing, I don’t have much air in my lungs to sustain me.