Rain Boy

I've been debating on uploading this for a few days now. Let me know what you think.

I watch him from my chilled window, like I have been for the past three days. He walks carelessly out of his front door and onto the rain covered grass. I watch the rain fall all around him, soaking his brown hair. The brutal wind pegs the liquid ice at him while yanking at his gray tee shirt. It swirls colored leaves like a tornado around him. He spreads his arms out wide as if he’s ready to start flying. His lips form a smile, but his teeth don’t show. His eyes are gently closed as if he was dreaming standing up. He takes slow easy breaths with his head arched back, he looks generally happy.

He stands in the rain, in short sleeves and jeans, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I sit in my window, leggings and a sweatshirt, wondering why he stands in the down pour. I leave my spot, walking down the creaky stairs, past the living room where my mother fell soundly asleep to the song of the rain and the hum of the tv. I slip on my old worn out sneakers, and click the locked door open. I gently open the whining door, looking back to make sure I didn’t wake my mother before closing it.

I walked like a slow breeze to the boy. My hair flows in the wind as it chills me. I come up to the boy’s side, examining him quietly. Up close I can see he had a few scars on his arms. There were deep bags under his eyes and his lips were chapped. I reached a hand to his shoulder to gently tap, but he flinched away. His eyes open quickly, and panic filled his green eyes for a second, he blinked, then no emotion showed. His smile faltered, not showing that true smile he was showing before. He just stared at me quietly, while I searched his face for an unknown reason.

“Do you like the rain?” I asked sincerely. He just nodded looking away, he was no longer smiling, but he wasn’t frowning. I picked at my nails trying to come up with something to say. Something that wouldn’t offend him, but then why would it offend him?

I found myself saying, “Why?” just above a whisper. As if I had said it too loudly, I would frighten the mysterious boy. His eyes snapped to mine, a little fear showing. His eyes flickered all around my face and to my house, as if he was fighting with himself over what to say, or if to say anything at all. All he said was seven words.

“It reminds me that I’m still alive.”

Reviews

[Chase Weik]

Wow Amy, this really surprised me. The story is short yet meaningful and you really painted a picture inside my head. The only things that I found wrong were some odd word choices or a couple things that weren't really needed. Brilliant work! Keep it coming.