I Love to Walk In the Rain
The rain splattered against the window, easy at first, but growing steadily fiercer. It came in gusts sometimes, blasts of it smashing hard against the window before returning to a steady pattering against the glass. It rolled down to the pane where it continued to roll over edge, drip down to the porch, then roll off of the porch, too. It just kept rolling.
The thunder sounded nearly the same time the lightning flashed, and the window rattled in turn, shaking the feeble little droplets. Individually, they were no stronger than a single ant. One raindrop will not end a drought. However, when together, they can be as dangerous as, well, a thunderstorm.
The sky had grown dark. The clouds were indistinguishable, grown together into a solid, black-gray mass. The room was equally as dark. No power left me sitting in the dark, empty house simply watching the rain by the light of the distant flashes of lightning, for moonlight could no longer penetrate the dense clouds.
I stepped outside, onto the porch. The rain nipped at my ankles as it ricocheted off of the concrete below me. It was cold. It stung a little bit. I splashed a puddle with my foot and watched the low spot in the porch fill up again. Just standing there I could not see more than a few feet in front of me. The rest of my world was just black, except for when the lightning flashed.
I continued onward by memory of my own yard, and the more recent images burned into my vision by the lightning. I stepped off of the porch. The ground was soft ans squishy under my toes. I had forgotten shoes, but I didn't care. The mud was my shoes. The water streaked through my hair and dripped in front of my face. I couldn't see much further than those drops, anyways. I passed the tree. I didn't see it, but I knew I had passed it. I had heard the rustling of leaves and the smell of petrichor had grown drastically stronger at that point. I stopped and closed my eyes. The wind picked up and blew my now soaked hair from left to right and back again. Normally, there would be a light to my left, but the storm had rendered it useless as well.
I walked until I felt gravel underfoot. It should have hurt, but I could no longer feel my hands or feet. The cold, mid-October winds had taken their toll on me. I proceeded down the gravel drive, eyes still closed. I no longer needed my senses. Not the physical, nature-given senses. I could be numb, and still feel everything. I could close my eyes and see better than if they were open. My ears heard nothing but thunder and rain, but I could hear the whispering, the soft, sweet music and the whispering.
I passed the pond. I knew it was their, too, despite my tightly clenched eyes. It was just there, in my head, just on the left, rising steadily with the rain. I knew it was there.
Then, pavement. Oh, the warm, rough pavement. It had retained the heat of the day and was giving off steam and fog that rose and swirled around my body. It was thick, warm, and smelled of oil and grease and rubber. I sat down there. I sat and thought for a while, letting the water run down my face, across my lips. It was quite peaceful.
I spread out full stretch on the pavement, as if I were going to make a snow-angel, but with rainwater. I felt the ground rattle a little, felt it shake just a tiny bit. The sound was familiar to me, like an engine rumbling or the air emitted from a fan turning very rapidly. I thought I heard another sound, maybe like tires screeching on slick, wet pavement, but I could have been mistaken. I felt a thud in my chest and I imagined that a tiny little leprechaun had curled up into my chest and he wanted out now.
I don't remember much after that. I kinda just fell asleep, but I remember waking in my bed early in the morning. The windows were streaked with rainwater and I could still hear distant thunder. I stumbled out of bed and walked to the front door. The porch light was on, and the light by the drive, too. Maybe I had dreamt it. There was a strange odor in the air, though. Kinda like rubber and oil. I took one sniff of my shirt and removed it immediately. I hate the smell of rubber...
The thunder sounded nearly the same time the lightning flashed, and the window rattled in turn, shaking the feeble little droplets. Individually, they were no stronger than a single ant. One raindrop will not end a drought. However, when together, they can be as dangerous as, well, a thunderstorm.
The sky had grown dark. The clouds were indistinguishable, grown together into a solid, black-gray mass. The room was equally as dark. No power left me sitting in the dark, empty house simply watching the rain by the light of the distant flashes of lightning, for moonlight could no longer penetrate the dense clouds.
I stepped outside, onto the porch. The rain nipped at my ankles as it ricocheted off of the concrete below me. It was cold. It stung a little bit. I splashed a puddle with my foot and watched the low spot in the porch fill up again. Just standing there I could not see more than a few feet in front of me. The rest of my world was just black, except for when the lightning flashed.
I continued onward by memory of my own yard, and the more recent images burned into my vision by the lightning. I stepped off of the porch. The ground was soft ans squishy under my toes. I had forgotten shoes, but I didn't care. The mud was my shoes. The water streaked through my hair and dripped in front of my face. I couldn't see much further than those drops, anyways. I passed the tree. I didn't see it, but I knew I had passed it. I had heard the rustling of leaves and the smell of petrichor had grown drastically stronger at that point. I stopped and closed my eyes. The wind picked up and blew my now soaked hair from left to right and back again. Normally, there would be a light to my left, but the storm had rendered it useless as well.
I walked until I felt gravel underfoot. It should have hurt, but I could no longer feel my hands or feet. The cold, mid-October winds had taken their toll on me. I proceeded down the gravel drive, eyes still closed. I no longer needed my senses. Not the physical, nature-given senses. I could be numb, and still feel everything. I could close my eyes and see better than if they were open. My ears heard nothing but thunder and rain, but I could hear the whispering, the soft, sweet music and the whispering.
I passed the pond. I knew it was their, too, despite my tightly clenched eyes. It was just there, in my head, just on the left, rising steadily with the rain. I knew it was there.
Then, pavement. Oh, the warm, rough pavement. It had retained the heat of the day and was giving off steam and fog that rose and swirled around my body. It was thick, warm, and smelled of oil and grease and rubber. I sat down there. I sat and thought for a while, letting the water run down my face, across my lips. It was quite peaceful.
I spread out full stretch on the pavement, as if I were going to make a snow-angel, but with rainwater. I felt the ground rattle a little, felt it shake just a tiny bit. The sound was familiar to me, like an engine rumbling or the air emitted from a fan turning very rapidly. I thought I heard another sound, maybe like tires screeching on slick, wet pavement, but I could have been mistaken. I felt a thud in my chest and I imagined that a tiny little leprechaun had curled up into my chest and he wanted out now.
I don't remember much after that. I kinda just fell asleep, but I remember waking in my bed early in the morning. The windows were streaked with rainwater and I could still hear distant thunder. I stumbled out of bed and walked to the front door. The porch light was on, and the light by the drive, too. Maybe I had dreamt it. There was a strange odor in the air, though. Kinda like rubber and oil. I took one sniff of my shirt and removed it immediately. I hate the smell of rubber...
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