The Rain

Strange pit dwelling creatures are waiting for something wonderful but few believe it ever will.

The leathery scared masses of childlike forms scratched against each other in the pit.  If you could see anything in the all-consuming oily darkness it would be the stunted outstretched hands rising up from the earth.

They reached through the oppressive heat making small pockets of space for their yearning digits before being rejected by the very substance of the air.  If you could hear anything through the dense quietness of the atmosphere it would be the painfully naïve voice of the young one speaking out.

“Will it really come?” Amidst the rustle of steaming bodies a voice embittered by maturity, “Of course not.  Has it ever come before?” The young one had never experienced the event but couldn’t help wondering if maybe it was still worth hoping for.

Then from below where the ones can’t even feel the moist stifling air, “Don’t listen.”  The young one paid the voice no heed dismissing, “What do the ones in the deep know of it?”  “It came before.  It came when I was young.” The voice from below continued.

The young one knew it was folly to indulge such romantic fantasies yet the voice from the deep spoke with such authority he again found himself pondering what it would be like.

“How does it feel?” the young one ventured to ask.  The voice form the deep again enticed his desires.  “Ah.” The sigh was a defeated hiss before continuing, “I can’t remember the sight or the smell of it but I recall they were wondrous.”

“But what did it feel like?” “Yes,” The voice from the deep hesitated, weighing the possibilities of engendering hope in the young one, weighing the repercussions of making the realization of his fears that much more devastating; the fear that it would never come again.

“That I remember quite clearly.”  The young one’s lower limb uncomfortably grazed another creature’s body as it pulled itself closer to the surface.  It was a needlessly dramatic act but he wanted to be closer to the place in which it might come from while imagining the experience through the deep one’s words.

“It’s like you’re not yourself and yet you’ve never been more yourself in all your existence.  You feel as if it will go on forever while being always afraid of its ending.  It is . . . it is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced.”

The young one found the explanation confusing and marginally inadequate.  Still the fervor of the deep one’s voice is what urged him to reach his hand up through the barrier of atmosphere, welcoming and beckoning it to come.  Expectantly spreading his digits; any second he might feel it.

The End

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