Of the Rain
I know it's been a century and a half since I last posted any original fiction on here, and that's mostly because I haven't written anything in five centuries or more. Regardless, I was briefly inspired today and wrote a little something. It's far from being anything close to good, but I kind of like the choppiness of it. I present...
She's walking in the rain.
It wasn't anything past drizzling, so she knew she would not be soaked, even if she decided to pause in the middle of the courtyard on her way home and tilt her face to skies to receive more of their kisses, which she did. Her headband threatened to fall, but she caught it in her hand and held it down by her side. It was something to connect her to this world, this weight in her palm. She imagined herself to be the heroine of an epic novel, where the good girl gets the boy and the sorcerer is banished from the kingdom. The rain drops felt cooling against her skin. Her makeup wasn't waterproof. She wondered if her mascara would run. She wondered if anyone would see even in this dark night. She decided that she didn't care.
She's walking in the rain.
She had said good bye abruptly, slipping out of his arms, waving at them as she crossed the street. She didn't want him to see her the way she was, the way she was becoming. Her eyes were beginning to burn. She was disappointed then that the rain drops were so light; she wanted them to hide the wetness on her cheeks. He texted her “I love you” but she didn't reply. She wanted to say it when she felt it, and she was not. She wondered if that meant there was something wrong with her. She decided that she didn't care.
She's walking in the rain.
She was crossing another street now. She wondered, if she just stopped in the middle of the road, would a car collide with her body; and if it did, would anyone even miss her. There were no cars, so she kept on walking. She was close to home now. She wished the trip had been longer. She would have liked to feel the rain a bit more, but there was much to be done. She sighed and entered the building. It was too warm. She took off her jacket, with all its spots of wet. Her fringe was partially stuck to her forehead. He texted her “Did you get home alright?” but she didn't respond. She wondered if it was selfishly sadistic of her to want to make him worry a little. She decided that she didn't care.
Her bedroom was her heaven. She took off her dress, throwing the fabric aside. Naked now, she realized she didn't care at all. She sat down at her desk and wrote, “She's walking in the rain.”
She's walking in the rain.
It wasn't anything past drizzling, so she knew she would not be soaked, even if she decided to pause in the middle of the courtyard on her way home and tilt her face to skies to receive more of their kisses, which she did. Her headband threatened to fall, but she caught it in her hand and held it down by her side. It was something to connect her to this world, this weight in her palm. She imagined herself to be the heroine of an epic novel, where the good girl gets the boy and the sorcerer is banished from the kingdom. The rain drops felt cooling against her skin. Her makeup wasn't waterproof. She wondered if her mascara would run. She wondered if anyone would see even in this dark night. She decided that she didn't care.
She's walking in the rain.
She had said good bye abruptly, slipping out of his arms, waving at them as she crossed the street. She didn't want him to see her the way she was, the way she was becoming. Her eyes were beginning to burn. She was disappointed then that the rain drops were so light; she wanted them to hide the wetness on her cheeks. He texted her “I love you” but she didn't reply. She wanted to say it when she felt it, and she was not. She wondered if that meant there was something wrong with her. She decided that she didn't care.
She's walking in the rain.
She was crossing another street now. She wondered, if she just stopped in the middle of the road, would a car collide with her body; and if it did, would anyone even miss her. There were no cars, so she kept on walking. She was close to home now. She wished the trip had been longer. She would have liked to feel the rain a bit more, but there was much to be done. She sighed and entered the building. It was too warm. She took off her jacket, with all its spots of wet. Her fringe was partially stuck to her forehead. He texted her “Did you get home alright?” but she didn't respond. She wondered if it was selfishly sadistic of her to want to make him worry a little. She decided that she didn't care.
Her bedroom was her heaven. She took off her dress, throwing the fabric aside. Naked now, she realized she didn't care at all. She sat down at her desk and wrote, “She's walking in the rain.”