Rain

• Arabella Syme, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2017

Rain. It comes down softly, muffling the world, cloaking the sky in a shroud of grey. It thunders down on hard grey pavements and red bricks. It drips onto fresh green grass. It whispers through the air in the form of fog. It is beautiful. I reach my hand out from the safety of my umbrella and catch a drop of water. If I focus on the sky, I can sometimes see the water droplets. Thunder rumbles, but I stay outside.
My mother calls, but I remain under my umbrella, with the smell of freshly mown grass blending with the cool sharp smell of the rain coming down. It patters on my umbrella like a drumbeat. Every now and then I hear the occasional sharp drip of a droplet of water falling from the high edge of my umbrella. I look up, breathing in the air, cooled by the droplets of water tumbling from the sky.
There is a tree that has grown in the corner of the garden for as long as I can remember. Its leaves sway gently as the droplets fall. The branches bend slightly. I know that if I look at the moss beneath the branches, there will be rain, individual droplets that found a lucky way down through the heavy canopy of leaves. They shine like diamonds on the green velvety background. Thunder rumbles, and I know that there will be a storm. I wait and count. One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… Eight. Lightning flashes.
‘Arabella! Come in or you’ll get a cold!’ Mum calls. I get up, leaving my umbrella. My feet leave rounded dents in the soft grass. Cold clear drops land on my skin, my hair, my clothes. I shake my head and the droplets go flying into the grass. I see them fly, like tiny crystals. I run, getting soaked. I make it to the door as thunder rumbles. From the window I watch as the rain covers all, colours becoming darker, glossier, more vibrant. Rain.