The Rain Dance

I lay in this raft, adrift in the sea, holding my pain, married to my own suffering. I look amidst the endless ocean, the vastness, so far to my disbelief. I cry what tears my body lets in this forsaken sea. I think perhaps I might drown in my sorrow and pity before I sink in this vessel and the water grasps my lungs. In my toil, I cry, “Woe is me!” How long do I wait, before death arrives? “Take me! Take me!” I say unto death, “Better to die with content in my soul than to die in the company of only misfortune.”
So hear me now Lord, “Your scorching sun has marked my back, and the salt of the depths settles on my lips. Impurity, I think, and my wounds, they sting. Make it rain. Here me, oh God! Hear me, oh God, make it rain. And let the drops fall upon my face. Let the wind cool the day, my God, make it rain.”
There is a moment and what do my ears hear? The pitter patter of a thousand raindrops this small wooden deck. “Praise Him, for He has heard, and He is real.” Though the wind, it raises the storm! They sweep the waves high and fall down like stones. It clashes like cymbals, they rage and thunder. I hang onto my boat, but I’m thrown out to the sea. With such fright, I cling to my oars. No! Not this terror, tossing my ship like a flake in the wind. God I ask for water and you give me a storm! I wanted a drink, now I fear for my life.

“What do you know?” I scream at the sky, holding my fist against the flashes behind. “You betray me, you give me hope and then take it away!” I’m bruised to the bone, tired, and worn. But I say it again and again until the wind stops and the ocean falls.
And I look to the dark sky. “Why me oh God, why?” And I grab at my gut, where my hunger rises, and once more I pray, “Oh Lord, if not drink give me some food! A fish, that does sound so sweet. Produce a great fish so I can feast on its meat and not hunger again. Just one fish, I pray my Lord, amen.”
As on command, again from the sea, something stirs below. I dive in sight of my succulent fish. Only to find that its fins are greater than I. And it looks at me with anger and grief, and a horrid pain which has been struck. The affliction of man as it was pierced in the side. “Poor whale-” That I thought, “Harpooned by the immorality of man. Not I, you poor fish. I come in nothing but good tidings, you’re too great for me to eat.” But being itself, without understanding, it heard me not and proceeded in fear. Oh the violence it waged as it struck down my ship by the might of its tail. Woe is me. Woe is me, for my ship is in two, nothing but wood drifts with my loss.
Now here I am, in the depths of despair, covered by nothing but the shroud of the sun, and this pain I endured, “But why”- I ask, “Oh Lord do you let me die? I cringe at my side, by the pain of my breath. I hold out above, but fall every time. And it’s you, the reason I drown! So Lord I ask once more, spare a soul and answer my prayers! Give me land so me feet can stay dry. Give me land so I may not tire anymore.
And oh what a sight! In the distance I see a beautiful island, a shimmering pearl. Lo and behold! What a joyous day! I swim to its shores and lay on its beach. ”Praise to you Lord!” I say resting on sand. And for once I believe. I truly believe. And I wander many days. I walk in circles, pacing, finding myself again and again. My feet run, they run and run until they meet their tracks. And I ask nothing more of my God but the song of my sorrow, “Hear my cry oh sovereign God. I thank you for shelter, I thank you for refuge, but this desert I’ve laid come to hate is nothing more than my grave. I can see the sun rise and set at the horizon on both ends. In moments I’ve wandered and covered its ground. So what now? May I rest till I die, alone in despair? Answer me Lord, and send me a friend.”
Without question of doubt, through faith I know. So I wait, I wait and I listen, quietly, patiently; seeking what’s sought, and I wait. Till faith has it been, and I hear its roar. Through the brush, dense and compact, out jumps a beast, striking and fierce. A lion that gnashes his teeth and strikes with his claws. Enraged and thirsty for blood he comes, and I run and I run with fear, so much fear. “Stop-” I shout out behind, “Eat the plants! Eat the dirt! Eat the birds, anything but me!” Although he hears me not and hungers all the more, chasing me out, to the tides in the sea.
It’s at the edge, where he stops and waits for my return. But I settle myself strong against the waves pulling me closer to his groaning jaws. So again I shout out to God, against the thrashing tides, the salt in my eyes, the wind in my hair, the waves at my side, the lion in front and the ocean behind. With oh such anger, with oh such fury I shriek, “Lord! Such a humble name-” I mock, “The name above all?” Still as they crash beating me down, I yell, “Who would ever call you merciful? As merciful as death! That is what you are! I ask for rain and you give me a storm! I ask for a fish and you give me a whale! I ask for land and you strand me afar! That I ask for a friend finally in faith and you give me a beast! Who are you God? You try to break me, you try to kill me. Still, I’m alive and so I ask you in pain, where are you when I call?”
With a ground shaking smite, the Earth cracking and shaking. In sudden abruption the trees fall down like splinters of wood, the waves grow high, the lion he falls to his death; and I am met by a strong churning wind thrusting itself down from the clouds. A force from heaven above, like a trident of God has been thrown down at me. So I quiver in fear, shaking through my skin, dread down my back and into bones. And a voice pure as the sun, and loud as a hurricane, answers from the sky, he says, “I am here.”
“Then not my way my Lord, forgive me, but yours.” I cry and fall to my knees; and it’s then that I see, from the horizon, my rescue. For my Lord has sent me a Nobel ship and a crew. They feed me, they clothe me, they bring me home, and for that I thank God.

Author's Note

edit of the original

Reviews

[MarkAndTheOcean]

Very neat story, more like a broken up monologue actually, either way it was very enthralling! I like how ferocious the events get and how much they escalate more and more. It's also a very fantastical scenario, like a spiritual dream the main character is having.
Keep it up!

[J.M.Fields]

Thank you very much my friend, I'm glad you enjoyed it. :)

[Jason A. Skilton]

yo what, you still check this? lol

[barleygirl]

This piece feels like a spoof upon the way that we self-absorbed humans tend to view the spiritual connection . . . as an on-going wish list to ease our discomforts, as we are often hyper-aware of our discomfort, but woefully unaware of being surrounded by blessings. The whiny narrow viewpoint of this narrator is well illustrated thru show instead of tell (great use of dialogue). I love how you suggest that every time the human feels discomfort, the deity is harshly questioned & threatened to be cut off for not doing His job properly. It's funny the way you portray it. But sadly, it's true in many people's minds! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[J.M.Fields]

Well I very much appreciate all of the positive feedback! It's strange this resitantes so well with people. It makes me feel accomplished. Oddly enough I wrote it when I was in high school as a school assignment and it got overlooked and shelved till I found it in my old collections. People didn't get it then but I'm glad they are now! I did get your message as well and I assure you I will release another story shortly. Perhaps a comedy this time? Who knows. I want to try new things. I have just been so preoccupied in writing my book I haven't had much time for short stories.

[Lyanth]

Sadly it takes much challenge for us to finally stop asking for our own way and accept that of his.
Yet nothing is learned or gained through ease. Often the storm raging inside is as difficult to weather as any literal storm.
Well constructed reflection of reality.
I enjoyed this through and through and definitely relate.

[J.M.Fields]

Thanks I really appreciate it. It definitely came from the heart. I'm glad you understand it, not everyone was too keen on it. Lol.

[Lyanth]

Not everyone shares the same views and understandings crafted by this faith. It's only natural, however , I am happy to be among the ones who commend you for sharing with us this relatable piece.

[J.M.Fields]

Thank you, it means a lot

[JayG]

• I lay in this raft, adrift in the sea, holding my pain, married to my own suffering.

Bear in mind that you did ask, so…

Look at this as a reader must: someone they know nothing about is on an unknown raft, on an unknown sea, at an unknown time, for unknown reasons. You know all that. The one on the raft knows. The reader, the one you write this for? Not a clue.

And… “Raft?” As in life-raft, or a construct of lashed timber? Which it is matters. Without it no meaningful image can be constructed.

Our protagonist is “holding” their pain?” What cn that mean? Given that the reader doesn’t know if it’s mental or physical, or what “holding” means, this is meaningless as read. Remember, the reader has no access to your intent for the meaning.

And what in the hell does “married to my suffering,” mean if the reader doesn’t know the cause of the suffering, its intensity, or why the protagonist feels that the fact that they’re "married" to it is something they need to know.

Here’s the problem: Forgetting that you’ve turned God into a plot device who acts for dramatic, not divine purpose, you’re trying to be literary and poetic. Yes, using evocative and vivid language is a good thing, but the reader must have the context to make it meaningful or they’re just words.

• I look amidst the endless ocean, the vastness, so far to my disbelief.

Amidst? Don't use Old English to try to make the writing more Biblical. It doesn't work. And in this case, though it wasn't your intent, you said that the person "looks while in the ocean, but never say what he's looking at. Not your intent, but it is what you said.

But... Why is this person there? You give no hint. How long have they been there? What’s their situation? What resources to they posses? The reader has none of that. All they have is someone they know nothing about complaining about things for which a reader has no context. Given that the reader has no assurance that you’ll clarify, and given that they have no understanding of what you’re talking about, will they continue reading? No, because in writing fiction context isn’t just important, it’s everything.

As you read this, you—knowing your intent and the situation—mentally place yourself into the speaker's situation. And because you know both the situation and your intent, it lives…but only for you. The reader? They have only what the words suggest TO THEM, based on THEIR background and experience.

When you read this, the voice you hear in your head is filled with emotion. What does the reader get? Have your computer read it aloud to hear how different that is from what you intended them to “hear.”

The reader also gets none of your performance. No gestures, no changes in expression, and no body language. Just that droning voice. In short, you cannot transcribe yourself telling a story because the tricks of verbal storytelling do-not-work on the page,

Writing a story for the page is a LOT more that. And the writing techniques we were given in school don’t work because they’re nonfiction skills. So though I know this isn’t remotely like what you hoped to hear, if your intent is to write stories for the page, you need to pick up at least some of the skills of writing fiction. And for that, the library’s fiction-writing section can be a huge resource.