The Originators

CHAPTER 1: IT'S NOT REALLY THE END OF THE WORLD, IS IT? (LAURA)

It increases its urgent rhythmic movement; the water rips, spiraling downward. Everyone must surely know the water is going to swell, flooding into all of the homes. The screams, the yelling of everyone continues. I stare, immobilized.

The rain beats down heavier than when it started moments ago. Looking past the hills into the distance, the sky is filled with bruised violet clouds. The small leftover bit of lemony Sun has been blocked. An increased urgency now accompanies the jumping, the subsequent splashes of people making their escape. To my left, from the back, my whole family jumps off the balcony since we can no longer use the stairs to escape the rapid rise of the lake.

They yell to me, "Come on! Hurry up. Come with us and jump. Jump! Laura, jump!"

Wanting to see, no really, I have to see what will happen, I try to guess how much time I have. I watch the rocking, urgent plunging of those metal feet; the kind I have never seen in my life. What will happen? I have to know. I can make my escape; I'm sure my family will wait.

The unknown alien aircraft's feet gain hold of the slick, now solid runway-firm water. An attached huge, blocky cabin of this monstrosity rights itself. I don't know who is in the alien flightcraft. The community's shared dread infects everything; everyone stops. No sound for seconds; its engine starts. Fuel pumping from its rear engines fiery red, already toxic; flames ripple across the lake. This thing will take us out, all of us. The screams start up again.

I must see what happens; how does this end? Surely, there's still enough time. I gamble on minutes every day, sure I'll beat the odds. Recalling I already lost one bet today, doubt tiptoes through my mind.

The pleas continue, urging me to jump; these entreaties create an odd background annoyance. Ultimately, I know I'll have to make my escape soon. I don't think those fuel flames will hit the house yet, maybe not at all; I can't be 100% certain.

This strange craft's engines, hidden in our lake for years and years, buzz confidently. Clearly, it is ready to take off as it starts to move. Only then do I start to run.

The balcony I reach seems smaller than I remember, now minuscule. Fear has shrunk everything. I can't really jump feet first anymore. I see them, my family yelling, treading water, looking and pointing west. They start to swim in that direction.

"Wait, give me a moment..." I shout.

The plane takes off. In the wake of its liftoff, flames trail. I am terrified, but I must gaze up. I see something, a round metallic face; its dull, indented sockets look down at me. I notice something else I can't process instantly. I don't have time. I pause and wonder if it's too late? Crawling cautiously, edging off the ledge, I now hang by my fingertips alone, I straighten them, and let go. Falling, half way down before I hit the water I see the flames stop right before shore. I think, what was all the panic about?

In the water, I bounce upward rapidly.

I call out, "Wait for me. Where are you guys?"

I brush hair out of my face and cry out again. No one hears me. Treading, moving my arms, I blunder towards shore until I can stand on the clay base of the lake.

"Hello! Hello! Where are you?" I yell.

Scanning the people, bobbing corks, there is no one in the lake I know. I don't see my family at all. They haven't waited for me. Irrationally alarmed, they took off. They didn't wait for me because they foolishly panicked. The dramatic, horrific ending never materialized. Why didn't they wait? I knew we wouldn't die.

I float, pushing occasionally against the sandy, sucking mud floor to gather any kind of propulsion. Finally moving west, maybe three miles later, I touch solid sand. The trees and brush firmly embedded next to shore allow me to grab a strong, thickset, wet branch. Breathing in short bursts, I scan the lake, waves sluggish now, the rain stops, I think I see them.

Their heads bob as they talk to each other. Waiting for me? Perhaps.

I want to tell them I am fine. The sky begins its final embrace of dusk.

Their words are meaningless, even when I hear, "I wonder if Laura made it?" I hear my sister laugh when her boyfriend pushes her head down into the murky lake water.

At last landing on the bank unseen, I find a place to rest for a moment. I lay down on moist grass, soft on my back. I wonder where the alien craft is going. Eventually, I will expose myself to my family. Forgive them? I stare up at the sky and try to remember what the plane's pilot was mouthing to me at that very last minute.

II.

My eyes open; I sit up quickly. A minor charge tingles, pricks my scalp. I rub my head with my left hand and use my right to push my heart back into place, to stop it from pounding so loudly. All I can see, when I close my eyes, is the inward blue and red world, veins behind the lid experiencing a surging violent storm.

"'Something wicked this way comes'," I murmur.

I get out of my bed moving to the window, I gaze up at the Moon. It starts spinning, growing larger and larger.

I inhale a gasp. Pressing fingers to the glass, I allow a single tear to slide, slip noiselessly down my face.

You can either believe change is a good or a bad thing. I look to the middle; I see the fissure trembling. I will have to walk into that fissure; hoping I'm strong enough to ensure the two sides don't snap back together. Being crushed to death isn't part of my plan.

I try to summon a smile as I see the headline, "Trouble...Coming Soon to a World Near You." It doesn't work.

I cover my face and give into tears that flood my cupped hands, spilling over to puddle at my feet.

I take no delight in the creation of my own lake.

"Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" Play, Moby