“If God’s Willing And The Creek Don’t Rise”

The followers of my series of barely spell checked first drafts know that I’ve mentioned that it seems as though summer is nearly over and the rainy season is starting to kick in. I’ve shown the state of the river recently…

There was nothing special about the afternoon. It was a bit overcast but the sky gave but a slim hope of rain though thunder continuously rolled down from the mountains to the north, west and east. It was around 5:30. I was sitting out on the front porch reading when I heard a strange noise coming from the area of the river some 30 yards or so to my right. I looked up and saw some cows moving across the dry, rocky bottom from one pasture to another. Two young Indian lads stood on the near bank.

The noise rose in volume and intensity and then a solid wall of water about four feet high came crashing and rolling around the bend. My neighbors from up the road came running down as I went inside to grab my camera. In the few seconds it took me to get the camera and return outside nearly everyone in the neighborhood had gathered to watch the muddy, debris-strewn water rise.

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It’s pitch dark now. Everyone has long gone home, but the sound of the river, so long silent is background music once more.