Rain

• Isabella Spinola, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2020

I look out over the valley and take it all in. The water dripping down my back, running along the rivets of my fur. The earthy smell that rain brings that wafts through the jungle. The screams of joy the young yell out rejoicing, dancing in groups along the wet surface. The branch stiff underneath my feet as I perch looking out over everyone.
Its been so long since we last saw rain. Our tribe changed. Adapted to the new dry environment. With the change in behaviour came a change in the way we behaved with one another. The tension was rising amongst us. Panic touching each of us with its thick fog. Water holes were drying up with our water supply almost gone. Our beloved food was dying and so were we.
I was out with the hunting group when it started. I thought it was bullets. That’s how unfamiliar the sound was to me. To all of us. Some jumped and climbed through branches trying the hide their bright orange fur. Others huddled together hugging knowing if it was their last moment, they were at least surrounded by love. Pleasantly it was the rain. We all rejoiced. All screamed in delight to feel the wetness dripping around us. The sound of the rain pattering on the leaves.
The elders are all huddled around one another. Happy expressions are written nicely on their old faces. Their fur normally bright orange now a murky red colour. The sky is a piercingly bright grey. The suns trying to peak through but with no luck it retreats back behind the clouds. A light pitter-patter fills my ears as the rain hits all the surrounding leaves. The rumbling starts towards the waterfall. Light fluffy clouds join together and form a family of angry dark rain clouds. Sparks of lighting spatter across the sky. The sky becomes a violent symphony of noise and colour. Deep purples and greys mix with the low rumble of thunder. Its not a sun shower anymore, instead a storm.
Rain continues for days on end. For the young, they hardly remember the days without rain. All the watering holes are overflowing with new waterfalls being found daily. The rain that was once dearly missed has become a burden in our lives. Hunting is hard to do with the rain constantly being in the way.
It seems like everything is going bad again but it’s when one of the hunters finds one of our beloved fruits that everything was fixed. Happiness settles around our tribe again as we all lavishly feast on the find. Fresh food is scarce so once we found it, we ate until we couldn’t imagine eating again.
As I looked out over the valley again perched on my branch that I noticed the rain was easing up. The dark angry clouds that felt like they were a constant image were drifting down through the sky. The rain came to a halt and with it, the cycle continued.