Rain

• Morgan Ashcroft, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2012

Rain

She had always loved the rain, always. While others found it depressing and sad, she always smiled when it rained. For as long as she could remember she would stand in the rain, letting it wipe away all her, pain, hate and guilt. In the rain she was free from it all, she was happy.
Today however the rain was not as comforting as it had once been. She stood there, the rain soaking through her clothes and plastering her oak hair to her scalp, her bright green eyes were red rimmed and she held herself desperately.
She longed for the rain to wash it away, all her pain, all her sorrow, all her despair.
She just wanted to be free from it all, but even the rain could not help her.
She stood there crying her tears mixing in with the rainfall on her slender face, making it impossible to know which was which.
She had no idea how long she had been standing there, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. As she stood there, trying to be free of it all the rain suddenly stopped. She looked up at him, she knew it had to be him; it could only have been him.
He stood in front of her, his blue eyes a mixture of fear and concern. He held the umbrella over her; the rain began to soak through his jacket and matt his hair to his head. She looked at him as the tears welled up again, he offered her a weak smile, and she began to cry all the more.
If he said anything it was lost to her, the sound of his voice mixed in with the rattle of the rain. He put an arm on her shoulder, and she threw herself at him.
She threw her arms around him and held him tight, scared to let him go.
He let the umbrella drop and held her close, gently stroking her wet hair. Again she was unaware of the sound of his voice, she didn’t care, she just wanted to hold him.
She held him close and wept, her tears and the rainfall mixing on his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, holding her close.
As she cried she felt her pain, her guilt, and her sorrow begin to be washed way.
She held him for a little longer before he gently pushed her away. She couldn’t look him in the eye; she just stood there staring at her feet. He put a hand to her chin and lifted her head gently, “You can’t blame yourself for this.” He said his voice finally reaching her. The tears came back as she looked at him, his kind blue eyes offering more comfort than the rain.
“But your dead,” she manages to sob, casting her eyes back to her feet. When she looked up again she was alone, with only the rain and an umbrella to comfort her.