Forces Balanced (252)

 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.