When the daylight has faded

Torrential (#up)

The sweet smell of the roses floats in the air, their sunny yellow blossoms embracing the grey downspout a feast for the eye. The front door's pristine white carries a heavy spring wreath, its flowers wilting a little. Through the kitchen window you can hear folk music and a woman's voice that accompanies the tune happily but slightly off key.

The old man closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. A terrible stench hits him: petrol mixed with rotting rubbish. The man holds his breath, refusing to open his eyes.

The music has stopped now, replaced by the Prime Minister's words.

"We promise the citizens most affected unbureaucratic help..."

His wife must have turned on the TV, he tells himself, knowing full-well that the woman he had spent more than 50 years of his life with died last year.

"... so they can start rebuilding their houses very quickly." The Prime Minister's voice drones on with confidence.

The man opens his eyes. The scene in front of him takes his breath away.

'Houses!' he thinks bitterly. Until two days ago, this had not been a house. It had been a home, first to his wife and children and the various pets they kept throughout the years, then just to him. But it had held the memory of their children's first steps into life and had grown with the effort and sweat he had put into garden sheds, new kitchens and putting together a multitude of cupboards. Most dearly, it had clung to the lingering scent of his wife to the very end. All gone within a few short minutes.

"Sir, I'm so sorry. It doesn't look as if there is anything salvageable here," Frank says. Frank is one of the firemen who volunteered to take the villagers back to what was left of their homes after the catastrophic rain had turned their little brook into a massive, destructive stream that had swept an entire community away. "We need to get out. It stopped raining, but you know that the dam might still break."

Considering that the south-west wall of the structure ahead now sports a gaping hole and that no piece of furniture is where it is supposed to be, the old man is inclined to believe Frank.

"You got out unharmed. The rest is just stuff." The man knows Frank is trying to be supportive.

He nods, but moves towards a cupboard that the water had bowled over and carried into the hallway. It's the only piece of furniture left complete enough to be identifiable. He tugs at the drawer but it is stuck.

Frank, instead of telling the man off for being an old obstinate fool, grabs the drawer with his big gloved hands. With a huge pull, the drawer comes unstuck and vomits its contents all over the muddy floor.

With shaky hands, the man picks up the dripping wet photo album that the girls had given them for their last wedding anniversary. The water has turned nearly every single photograph into a piece of abstract art despite the plastic cover. Nature's forces have obliterated his past.

The man swallows hard. Frank pats him on the shoulder silently.

He looks up into the firefighter's eyes. The compassion he sees there almost brings him to his arthritic knees. But Frank is young. He does not understand.

He and his crew rescued the man two days ago, risking their own lives to get him to safety. While the man is stunned at their courage, he is unable to feel gratitude.

He doesn't want to rebuild a house that will never become his home. He doesn't want to invest into a future that isn't his. He doesn't want to carry on, now completely without her.

In desperation, he looks down. A black-and-white, slightly crumpled bride and groom stare back at him from the otherwise destroyed photo album, miraculously unharmed.

The man takes this photo into his gnarled hands and caresses it.

"You're right, Frank. It's just stuff."

He smiles at his wife, turns, and, without a backward glance, walks away. 

Author's note: This story was inspired by this week's tragic floods in my area that flooded loads of cellars in my street but destroyed whole communities and took many people's lives. We had been prepared for some heavy rain, but nobody had expected to see anything like this.