Synaesthesia Magazine Thunder, Lightning - Page 11

/ Loss of sensation Photography by Kristi Beisecker Judi Walsh You have to hold on, young man, he said to me, or the waves will lift you right off your feet. I said what about the lightning and he said you have to be quick and slip back when it cracks or you’ll be stuck and you don’t want to be on that side for long. He puts his fingers in my eyes and I hold my breath for as long as I can. The grind of stone against stone growls up from my stomach and into my chest and into my head and I can’t hold them in and I burst my ears and my eyes. The salt is in the back of my nose and I cough out silver-green and every in is filled with tarnish. The clear drips crash crash crash keeping my time. You need to listen for the beep I remember but I can’t hear without. You need to listen for the beep. Listen for the beep. Listen for the beep. It is faint but I grab it and stuff it down. It grows rhythmic, red, fluid. Hello young man, the lightning says. Are you where you need to be? I am quick and slip through. He cannot fool me. I know which side I am on.