Friday Fiction – Rain

I feel like I’m in hell.

I stare out my window, watching the water as it falls, splatters, then floods down the street outside. It’s heavy today. Not quite a torrent, but more than a downpour. I’m guessing they’ll call it a deluge on the news. But I think I heard someone say it’s supposed to be a drizzle this weekend. He was talking about taking his kids to the beach.

Last week one of my coworkers spent 20 minutes talking about how beautiful it was to watch the rain just fall. She talked about the way water drips off leaves, and the rhythmic sound of rain pelting the roof. Me? I think she’s crazy. I can’t say it out loud because nobody would understand, but I hate the rain.

I read in the checkout line that some people believe there are places with very little rain at all. It has to be lies. It said some places go weeks without any rain at all. Stupid, I know. But I couldn’t help it. I bought the magazine. I’ve already read the article 6 times.

I dream of it being true. I just want the rain to stop.raining-690930_1280

The weekend comes, and this damn rain is coming down as hard as ever. I guess that guy didn’t take his kids to the beach. Or maybe he did. You never know.

I look at the magazine again, the one that speculates that not rain actually exists somewhere, and I decide I can’t take it anymore. I don’t grab anything but my keys. I go out to my car, and I leave. I have no intention of coming back.

The rain is driving. I’m driving. Traffic is backing up along the coast. Maybe people really do go to the beach in this. But I’m not getting anywhere—everything is going too slowly.

I exit when I can and drive across the city instead. If I can’t find not rain on the coast, maybe I’ll find it in the mountains. Anyway, at least I can keep moving.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been driving, probably hours. I’m high in the mountains now, and virtual rivers are rushing past me at the sides of the road. I’ve gotten away from the cars, but I don’t think there’s anywhere I can get away from the rain. It leaves everything wet … saturated. The rubber blades that thwack across my windshield can’t keep pace with the cursed downpour that seems never to relent or subside.

I feel a pang of anger, even hatred, for this never-ending rain. Without thought, I crush the gas pedal and feel my tires slip unsteadily on the wet pavement. I round several turns as the road narrows, but I rush on.

I feel my car lose all sense of traction as I turn my steering wheel. My car continues forward to where the mountain falls away below me. I guess I’m really not returning home.

I feel heat on my skin and pry my eyes open to a near-blinding light against a clear blue backdrop. It takes a moment to realize it’s the sky.

“It’s not raining,” I say to myself.

A voice responds from nearby. “Rain? It never rains here. Never. Welcome to hell.”

I shudder with a laughter that shakes my entire body.

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