Enough excuses though. I just want to write. But what to write about...
I'm going to try something a little different. Normally I like to blog about semi-serious issues that are relevant to other people, but today I feel in the mood for a short story. Since I have virtually no inspiration whatsoever, it probably won't be very good. So here goes nothing...
A Day in the Rain:
Rain. Everywhere, the great, fat drops fell and rolled and dropped again until they landed on the over-saturated pavement, making large puddles. Nothing was safe from its aggressive downpour. People, strangers, hurried by, anxiously tugging at their coat collars and trying to keep their umbrellas righted. As if offended by their pitiful attempts to save themselves from the inevitable, the wind blew an especially strong gust, causing all but the most determined of umbrella-wielders to lose or break their only protection from the storm.
A pair of sharp, catlike eyes surveyed the dismal scene from an unassuming perch and gave a small chuckle. People could be so fragile sometimes. A little rain, a little wind, was nothing to be afraid of. And yet, here was this supposed “technologically advanced society” running around like chickens with their head cut off when a little moisture presented itself.
Oh, the irony.
Slowly, as if enjoying every sting from every raindrop, a figure unfurled itself from the narrow space between a building and a car and stepped into the grey, wet world that surrounded the tiny spot. A quick gust of wind blew the figure’s hood back, revealing a very untidy-looking young woman. She reached back and pulled her hood over her head once again before starting down the street at a leisurely pace. She had a mission to complete, but there was no hurry. The entire world around her was in a hurry, and she was the calm and collected one.
It gave her a feeling of control. Something she was not used to feeling.
She continued sauntering down the sidewalk, invisible to panicked passerby, practically running for the safety of their homes, or their jobs, or their cars.
And then, in a moment of wild, giddy abandon, the girl threw her hands out and tipped her face skywards, embracing the harsh winds and rain. These were the moments she lived for. And this moment all the more precious because it was her last moment of freedom before everything she knew came tumbling down around her.
She was prepared for that though. She didn’t know if she would ever fully be able to accept it, but she was prepared for the absolute worst.
Her slow journey took her several blocks, past nice apartments and dilapidated houses, a school, a church, a strip mall… life in full force. But everything she passed looked deserted. Humanity had decided to hide, children called in by their mother’s and anyone older than the age of 12 hiding inside somewhere, as common sense told them to do. Maybe with a book, in front of a fire. No, no one did that anymore. Most likely they were huddled on their couches with blankets, watching reruns of TV shows that didn’t really bear any significance. It was pointless but… she envied them. She envied them their comfort, and the simple luxury of feeling safe. She stopped for a moment next to a mini mart and wondered at that last thought. Had she ever truly felt safe? She wasn’t sure. Perhaps when she was younger, before she could remember. The thought saddened her, and she resumed walking.
Every fiber of her being screamed for her to turn around, to go back. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the answer, this could not possibly be the solution. In a ridiculous daydream she imagined someone she considered close running to her, telling her to stop. Collecting her in their arms and comforting her. If not providing an escape, then at least telling her that everything would be okay in the end. She just didn’t know anymore. No such person came, of course. Her feet kept trudging through the puddles and the feeling of control, the feeling of superiority, the feeling of nostalgia all faded and disappeared into the grey mist. But she could not turn back now.
Five minutes passed, ten, and all too quickly she was in front of the building. She checked the address against the paper in her pocket, twice to be sure. The moment she entered would be the end of her life as she knew it and the beginning of something she could not get away from. It terrified her. But her life at the present moment needed some improvement. And so, with tentative steps, she climbed the short set of stairs in front of the building and knocked on the door.
Change was coming.
And so, out of nowhere, a story about a rainy day. (Among other things.) I have absolutely no idea where that came from. However, if anyone does read this blog still, I would love some... input. Who do you think the girl was? Where do you think she came from? Where was she going? Because.. to be completely honest... I have no idea.
What I do know is this: writing certainly is the cure for many, many things.
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