The Awakening of 'Moses Incarnate' (Solo)

Everything in the natural world has to abide by a law or two and this is especially true for one of the abundant substances on the Earth…water. Water flows, follows the path of least resistance, and…well…is wet. But as Jorge stood on the shoreline of the beach, his hands outstretched towards the waters, he felt that the old laws didn’t apply anymore. He felt a connection with them, one that no normal human should have but there it was. The gentle ebb and flow, he felt every single motion of it and knew precisely where it would flow to next. Then…that was when he raised his hands and threw them out to his sides.

Laws of nature state that water does not follow the command of a common man by mere thought and gesture alone. But despite all that, despite what textbooks and scientists and common sense say…Jorge Cervantes watched it respond.

The crash was deafening and at first people at the beach did not notice. Most would rather play it off as being little more than a passing helicopter overhead or maybe even a car accident back in the streets behind them. Then slowly, scream after scream issued forth as an entire beach of citizen’s leapt up from their tanning and fun times in surprise. Before them, they watched the waves do the oddest of things. Instead of lapping up towards the shore and scaring little children who would run from it giggling, the water stood high.

The towering monolith of frothy, bubbling water stood high, towering towards the sky enough to partially block out some of the sun’s light (depending on the angle at which a bystander stood by). In doing so, a riot of sparkling rainbow flecks were cast out amongst the beach goers. Their terrified and awestruck faces were bombarded with a cascade of colors as they all stared wide eyed at the ocean’s answer to the tower of Babylon. Then…without a word, they watched in shock as the water split itself down the middle and ushered itself off to the sides, parting with such majesty as can only be described as an act of god.

And that is exactly what people believed that they were witnessing.

Jorge Cervantes, on the other hand, did not think that. Instead he merely stood at the shoreline, arms outstretched as water obeyed and began to part for him. From his perspective, all he saw were the towering guardians of the oceans, rippling and churning in two solid walls and reached up to seemed to hold the sky in place. He would have been awed at the sight had he taken more than a second to glance at it. Instead though, his eyes fell to the formerly ocean covered sand at his feet.

He scanned, eyes roamed and searched frantically for what it was that he sought: not the wet rocks, or the flailing fish, or the glistening seaweed…but the still, lifeless seeming form of the teenage girl whom was his best friend and recently his love. His movements became robotic as he stepped forward, feet stepping onto the still wet sand, squishing between his toes as leaving his print behind his every uplifted step. Despite the discomfort, he did not care. Instead he walked boldly on, caring not that to his left and right the towering walls of water seemed shudder threateningly. Instead he focused only on the unmoving form of Nichole.

Shaky limbs reached down as knelt and stared at her water dotted face. She looked pale, like a sleeping princess had he seen in picture books as a child. But a kiss was not going to wake her up. Her unmoving chest and lips proved that. Still…he was not going to leave her there. Carefully his small arms slipped underneath her and with a grunt he stood and hefted her up into his arms.

The water shuddered violent above him and groaned with anger at being held at bay from their natural state. But despite the protests, Jorge paid them no heed. Instead, he turned and walked towards the dry beach, Nichole in his arms and an unexplainable pressure at the base of his skull. He tried to ignore it, to block out the pain and focused on the expansive shoreline that stretched out before him. But with every step, he could feel his brain pulsating in pain inside of his skull. The water shuddered again but he did not dare turn back, instead he continued on…

Step…Pain…Squish…

Step…Pain…Squish…

The shoreline got closer, he focused on the beach blankets, the umbrellas, the stands, the terrified and awestruck people…it would only take a few more steps…then he smelled blood. That ruby red, precious fluid of life began to flow down from his nostrils as the pain became so blinding in his skull that he saw nothing ahead of him. Eyes winced in pain, he could only continued to take steps…and this lasted until finally he set foot on dry land.

With as gasp at feeling the gritty, dry sand under his feet, Jorge, sapped from all his strength, could do nothing other than simply…collapse into the blackness of his unresponsive mind.

The ocean roared in freedom behind him, crashing back down to its rightful place covering the wet sands below. The crowd of people screamed and ran backward as water sprayed up on everyone, dotting and splashing all who was too close. Most stood in shock, staring at the empty sky where the water had once stood up high, almost as if waiting to see if either it were a prank or it would happen again. Others ran for their cars, fearful of a repeat performance, and still others…those ones dropped to their knees and uttered every prayer and confession they knew, praising the utmost glory they had witnessed.

Few if anyone immediately took knowledge of the fallen, comatose boy the pale or the drowned body of a teenage girl whom lay next to him. But as they lay there, warmed by the sun high above, their hands lay upon each other in one last time.