Rain

A story about a man who is lost both in thoughts and in the city during heavy rainfall

He wandered the streets without an aim. He was wet and chilled to the bone, but he didn’t care. His feet continued their monotone rhythm, a rhythm in which he had no control over. His mind was somewhere far off. He was walking in a daze, paying his surroundings no attention. People with umbrellas whizzed by like ants, trying to avoid him. Dead leaves sailed out of sight in the gutters. The busy world around him was normal, although moving in fast forward. Still, his own world seemed to move in slow motion. Even in the middle of a huge crowd, he was all alone. The only sound he could hear was that of his frosty breath. And the rain. The water dripped from the brim of his hat. The drops splashed and disappeared among the rest on the pavement.

Like this he kept going. When bumping into someone by accident he offered only a weak apology. Undisturbed, his mind kept replaying an image. It haunted him, its grip getting tighter with each step. It was crushing him, and he couldn't breathe. He needed to move on, to get away. So he kept walking these unknown streets. His feet moved faster and faster, while his thoughts tied an untidy knot in his head. Despite the heavy rainfall, all he could think of was the smell of smoke and the heat of the fire.

The world stopped. His body came to a halt. After a few seconds he lifted his head with caution, first glancing right, then to the left. With a knitted brow he turned back to where he came from. Far down he could see the busy street. He turned back to face the dead end of an abandoned alley. Why had he come here of all places? He sighed and turned on his heel to retrace his steps, sinking the sole of his shoe into a small puddle. An annoyed "tch" escaped his lips as he moved his foot back. The ripples in the water caught his attention, keeping his eyes locked on the movement. The puddle fell silent again, as calm and quiet as his surroundings, the surface as smooth as a mirror.

He didn’t recognise himself at first. All he saw was a black, lifeless figure. A tall shadow with broad shoulders. The face covered in shadows threatened to pull him in. the eyes were hidden, but still he could feel the eyes locked on his. He bent down in a slow movement, as if in a trance. The desire to disappear grew stronger as the shadow came closer. He reached a hand out to accept the invite. His fingertip was so close that he could feel the cold air above the surface. Right then a water drop from his hat fell and blurred the image. In the same instant, the deafening sound of rain reverberated in his ears.

As he rose from the ground, his gaze lingered in the puddle. The rain was now disturbing the surface, making the reflection abstract and unfamiliar. His lips turned into a small and resigned smile. He closed his eyes. Focusing only on his other senses, the constant pour of the rain calmed him. If he took a deep breath, he could smell wet earth. Somewhere in the distance he heard a dog bark and a cat hiss.

It reminded him of home. He could visualise the dirt road and the white house it led to. To the right there would be an old barn with flaky red paint. He could see the white fences along the road on both sides, all the way up the road, through the gate and into the farmyard. To the left of the house, a chicken coup with six chickens and a rooster. The sheet metal roof made a clacking sound whenever a drop hit it. Behind the coup, he could make out the outlines of the backyard dam.

The house itself seemed grand, but was in reality small. A candle light in the kitchen window caught his attention. He knew his mother was knitting in her rocking chair in the corner. He wanted to get closer, to hear the creaking of the floorboards as she rocked back and forth. He was curious as of which melody she was humming to this time. He missed her soft voice. The gentle way her hand caressed his cheek. The warm look in her eyes and she smiled at him lovingly.

A white house in flames flashed through his head as lightening struck across the sky. His eyes shot open. The rumble that followed closely resembled the crackling sound of wood burning. His smile disappeared in an instant. His right arm was numb. It was stretched up towards the sky, trying to reach for something a million miles away. His body slumped, and he became aware once more of his empty surroundings. It was all grey. Grey and gloomy. It dawned on him then, how his drenched coat weighed him down.

The brief memory of a familiar warmth could not chase the cold from his body. His body shivered in the cold. The dress shirt he wore stuck to his torso like glue, his shoes sloshing as he began walking again. Moving back to the bustling street, a lump in his throat formed. His breath came out as a muted sob, the sound drowned out by the rain.

He wiped away the rainwater from his face. But between the freezing raindrops, a lonely scalding hot tear rolled down his cheek.

Author's Note

Would like critique on both the story as a whole, as well as grammar and help finding the rigght words to make the mood.