Just My Imagination

I'm not sure that I've ever been this cold before. Cold and wet...and feeling pain from everywhere now. It is difficult to concentrate...my mind is racing...going from the past and back to the present...I can't believe that I'm alive. How long have I sat here now? What do I do now? There's nothing left...it is all gone.

What was it...just a couple of hours ago? What had happened? My mind is trying to remember it all...where was I at when this started? Think, Keith, think...yeah, when the train whistle blew for so long, I knew there was something wrong. Suddenly I felt a cool breeze; it was quick and made me turn my head. Then I saw it coming from up in the valley. Like a huge monster breathing a black mist in front of it...oh no...the South Fork Dam had burst. No time to think, just run...run buddy run.

In my younger days I had a bit of quickness to me, but now here I was, old and fat, my ancient heavy legs struggling to gain the needed momentum. I had to gain the hill before this ugly monster ate me up...no time to look, just run. The breeze became more pronounced as this onrushing horrendous black and brown mass of water and debris displaced the air in front of it. As I ran, I felt the cool breeze on my face. How far away was I from the base of the hill? It looked like a mile but must have been only a couple of hundred yards. I could see the incline of the hill in front of me as my knees ached and my lungs burned so badly. If my knees and ankles could talk, I'm sure they would be screaming loudly at this sudden idiotic behavior of mine that was causing them so much pain and discomfort. In fact the four of them were now sending sharp and startling signals to my brain on every step as I bounded across the open ground. None of them had ever before been subjected to carrying this kind of weight at a pace beyond my usual mosey. How long would they hold out?

Just a glance to my right and there it is...coming down fast and hard...it must be forty feet high. Could I make it far enough up the hill in time...oh how I wish I were younger, slimmer and more fleet a foot. I was now on the incline and the run became harder and harder as I climbed, dodging trees and bushes, but motoring as fast as this old boy could move. I felt the mist, it had to be close, but I couldn't stop to look, I had to keep going. How far up did I have to go...no time to think, just keep moving. Something hit me in the right shoulder, almost knocked me down, don't slow down, keep going stupid. The climb became steeper now...grabbing at anything to help pull me up the hill, I held on to a sapling and suddenly my feet were knocked away, but I held on...now with two hands, as the water jerked at my feet. I pulled as hard as I could and reached for another bush above me...hopefully it will hold. The darn thing has thorns but I've got to hold on, pull Keith, pull. Another wave crashed down upon me, which soaked me completely, but I pulled my head up. The thorns dug into my hands and scratched at my face and I reached up with my left hand at a small tree but I missed, oh no...I'm going to be swept away...no, I've got it...dug my right elbow into the dirt...pushing up with my feet and I've gained another foot or two. Keep climbing, get out of here, oh man, something smacked my right knee hard, pull, dummy, pull.

I'm above it all, the entire town and valley is a raging river of water, trees, boards, telegraph poles, parts of houses and...people, mostly dead, drowned people. Some people were alive though, clinging to doors, boards, limbs, anything they could hold onto, still barely alive, but alive and scared. Over there just to my left, a little girl is coming my way, she's clinging to a tree limb, and I've got to try to help her. Yes, she sees me and I hold on to my tree with my left hand...reaching out for her, no, no, she's gone under...the entire limb disappeared with her under the water. She couldn't have been more than ten years old and I couldn't save her...she's gone. Another wave of filthy water slaps at the bank and knocks me down. Keep moving up, you're not safe here, move Keith, you are so dumb, move. I keep crawling up the bank, holding on to whatever I can. There's a foot...a body...lying right in front of me. I crawl up and see this little boy, his face down in the dirt. He's alive, he's shivering terribly and his skin is tinted a pale blue color, but he's alive. I pull off my shirt and put it around his naked torso...maybe 6 or 7 years old. I pick him up and wrap my arms around his shivering body...trying to warm him up. A voice, no two voices, above me...what are they saying? One voice is closer now and I yell back...there's a man stumbling down towards me. He's yelling Scott...Scott...and all at once...this little boy in my arms cries back for his Daddy. The man sweeps down upon me quickly and grabs the boy from my hands...my God that man looked like he might squeeze him to death. A lot of tears and a quick thank you and the two of them are gone, back up the hill.

I roll over and try to lift myself up, it is hard...my right leg isn't working right...my knee is bleeding badly. I try to rip and tear my tattered jeans, I need something to wrap around the wound to stop the bleeding, but my thorn torn hands are too weak and sore to accomplish the task. I grab some mud and pack it on the wound and press it hard. Wait...there's something in the bushes to my right, maybe a curtain or a tablecloth, so I crawl over to get it. It was once some lady's dress, but now it becomes bandages for my leg and hands.

I'm getting colder now and my face is burning...it was shredded by the thorns. So cold, I can't stop shivering, I'm trying, but I can't stop shivering. How long have I been here shivering? Where should I go? What do I do now? How could all of this have happened?

Disclaimer: This never really happened, except in my mind. I've been reading David McCullough's very well written documentary, "The Johnstown Flood" and have become somewhat embedded within his narrative several times. It is so easy to imagine while you are reading that you could be right there. Last night I decided to lay back, close my eyes, imagine myself being in Johnstown at the time the flood hit and create a little story from my experience. With the background given in this book, it was not hard to imagine.

Seriously, there's not a soul among you who thought that I could cover a couple of hundred yards at any pace above my usual mosey without suffering some serious physical setback. As a matter of fact, I think that I have suffered some irreparable psychological problems just by imagining it.

I highly recommend reading this book; it is well worth your time. My copy is available for anyone wanting to stop by and check it out.