There was a gnat buzzing, appearing and disappearing, in the
glare of the early afternoon sun. Swat…swat… then another one joined in the
rebellion. It was a minute event, infinitesimal in the scheme of things, but it
was the beginning of the rip, the tear in the fabric. A sound once distant, got
louder, more distinctive, as it pushed away the voices nearby. It was a concentrated
noise, drawing every inch of her consciousness, to a centered, focal point.
It was a tone, high pitched enough that she felt aligned
with the pack of neighborhood dogs, as they wandered down the street. Even they
paused and looked around, just as the sound reached her ears. Funny how a
simple noise can suddenly unite, even if for a split second. The dogs picked up
their pace, the gnats found other organisms to encircle and she, well she remained
still, so still in fact that, she forgot she was alive. Every ounce of her
being felt connected, blended, whole with the universe. Atoms merged, energy
collided, forces balanced.
An orange tabby cat peered out from behind a nearby bush. The
fur on his tail was fluffed, something had spooked him. He stepped out into the
sunlight, but quickly, second guessed himself and retreated into the shadows.
She remained motionless, inanimate, feeling like she too had to take cover at
any moment. She chose however, to be stationary, unassuming, so she could
determine the cause of her trepidation. The root of disharmony. Nothing
happened immediately. It was several minutes before anything of importance occurred
at all. Her nerves had settled, and she forgot about the humming, just long
enough to let her guard down. The fabric began to separate.
The warmth of the sun felt nice. She rarely sat outside, grass
gave her a rash. But today, of all days, she was reading outside. It was a
quiet neighborhood and inside seemed so loud and distracting today. The buzz of
electricity, the hum of the fans. The walls seemed to have a voice, creaking
and stretching from the late summer heat. The windows were shiny, almost
blinding, even with the shades pulled. Everything was in sync within the house,
every angle nudging her outside, but she didn’t know why. All she knew, looking
back on it now, was that something lured her outside and her house knew what
she needed most. So, there she sat, itchy legs from the fresh mowed lawn, watching
insects fly, cats hide, dogs wander and hearing the most peculiar of notes. The
fabric vibrated.
The turbulence was not loud, most people who were out and
about, didn’t even appear to hear it. Yet, they seemed to be in a deliberate daze.
Like they too were lured outside, and they hadn’t quite figured out why. Some
stood in their drive ways debating whether to wash their car. Children were
kicking around a ball, not really playing, but more running through the motions
of playing. Their smiles were genuine, but their faces almost looked as if they
were being pulled upwards, by invisible strings. She continued to remain steadfast,
spellbound by the merging of real life and science-fiction. It appeared real
enough, to almost anyone else, it would play out like any other day. But to
her, something was amiss: Missing cohesion, missing alignment, missing density.
She closed her eyes, focusing on one thing, her breath. In, out, in out. Her
heart beat slowed its pace. The fabric softened.
She decided to move, at last, slowly, ghost-like. Everything
appeared intangible, distant, tenuous. She stood, the ground felt ethereal,
like she was floating. Colors seemed brighter, more defined. Edges once unnoticeable,
darkened making everything look traced, outlined. She reached out for the
leaves of the bush, where the orange tabby was still hidden beneath. The leaves
felt solid, but appeared to her mind at least, to be more important somehow
than just mere structures for photosynthesis. Their edges, pushing the
background and pulling the foreground. Like there was a shift in placement,
even though they never moved an inch. There was a transport of energy, a
connection to nature she never felt before. Fabric sewn into tapestry.
She crossed the lawn, every blade of grass was telling a
story, an infinitesimal story. They seemed to be repairing some rip or tear
that formed in the fabric, each a tiny thread, wrapping around one another
until there was an appearance of normalcy. She paused, wiggled her toes,
allowing the wetness to coat the bottom of her feet. That sensation she
remembered. The rash on her legs became less itchy. The sun less blinding. The
pause button seemed to be undone and the ripples faded leaving science-fiction
behind. Bringing real life back up to full speed.
The tactile vibration of the focusing noise lingered, but
the audible vibration disappeared, and giggles sharpened, as the children
across the street became noticeable. The
buzzing of the gnat returned. Swat…swat, to no avail and another one joined in
the rebellion. The green door, her front door, seemed to lure her back inside. The
concrete howled from the heat of the sun. The trees creaked and stretched in
the late summer breeze. Even the wind seemed to be nudging her back inside. The
door knob glistened, she turned it and the shadow of inside swallowed her
whole. But the vibration remains.
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