Summer Rain

A story of a father's reaction to his daughter's death.

It was a hot day, but it didn’t feel like it. The cool summer breeze swept through the park, sending leaves of twilight gold to shower the earth. The laughs and cries of the children soothed the heat like sweet summer rain. If a passerby foreign to the area had walked by, he’d have thought that the idea of the reckoning was insane. That the idea of our mortality was something to scoff. That if the sounds and feelings of this warm summer day could be bottled, than mankind would be divine. All was well.

At 2:45 the bomb went off.

-----

“Sarah!”

I know what I shout as I stumble through the burning playground, blood pouring from my right ear, but I can’t hear it. I can’t hear the screams of parents as they search for their children, dialing 911 in their cell phones while crowds begin to form to watch the blaze. I can’t hear the sirens that ring through the clearings, echoing through the trees. I can’t even hear my own anguished cry as I find Sarah lying beneath the white-hot metal that was once her favorite slide. The metal burns my hands as I tear it away. I snatch her up in my arms, holding her limp body close. I only hear the harsh buzzing of static as I approach the crowd.

“Somebody help me! Please, somebody help!”

-----

I sit alone upon the cold park bench as paramedics and firemen bustle around the playground which is now yellow taped and roped off from the staring crowd. I hold my small wallet photo of Sarah against the white rosemary in my hand, whispering a desperate, pleading prayer over and over again. I stand as the detective who interviewed me approaches. I can tell by the empty look in his eyes what has happened before he even opens his mouth. My knees pop as I hit the ground, my hands pressed against my temples. I’m screaming. I can barely hear but I know I am. I’m screaming out into the hot summer afternoon.

-----

“Do you have the gun I ordered?”

The man nods and pulls the silver revolver from the case. He places it upon the glass counter. I give him my license for the second time. He glances up and meets my eyes as he wipes the barrel of the gun.

“Is this weapon for business or pleasure?”
“Neither.”

He shakes his head and takes out a box of cartridges. I place money on the desk and open the box, taking just one bullet. As I turn to leave the man calls after me.

“Is the pain that bad?”

I answer without looking back.

“It is.”

-----

The news has stopped reporting the attack and moved on to the latest starlet’s rehab run. I switch off the TV and touch my ear. It’s almost healed. Tears run hot down my face. It’s been nearly a month since Sarah died. The funeral was small, like her mother’s. I can see her drawings from across the room, held on the fridge by fruit shaped magnets. I c**k the hammer off the gun, switching off the safety, and press the barrel to the side of my head. My hand shakes as I wrap my finger around the trigger. I can still see her pictures. I can hear her laughing as we watch the latest Land Before Time movie. I feel her against my chest as I carry her from the burning playground. I let the gun drop.

-----

“I want to enlist.”

My bags hang by my shoulders as the sergeant fills the forms. Sarah’s drawings are gone, burned. The house is sold. I still have the wallet photo, the only proof she ever existed, tucked in my back pocket. I step on the bus and watch as the town disappears into the distance, the golden leaves twisting away as the wind picks them up.

-----

“Why are you here?”
“Sir, to fight, sir!”

“What do you fight for?”
“Sir, my country, sir!”

“And who do you fight for?”
“Sir...no one, sir!”

-----

“Sarah!”

I scream as the explosions rattle the makeshift tent. Surprise attack. I push myself up and rush past the flimsy cloth entrance, rifle drawn, firing out into the night. I can’t hear the shouts of the confused soldiers. I can’t hear the muzzle blasts as the rifle grows hot in my hands. I hear Sarah’s laughter as she heads down the playground slide. I hear only the sweet sound of summer rain.

Reviews

[Justin Burning]

This was an interesting story. I especially liked the way you approached the narrative: in sporadic bursts, each giving the reader a little more of an insight into the narrator's situation and emotions. I think I probably would liked to read more, to see his plight expanded a bit. But, as it is, this played out more like a prose poem which worked, as well. Good work, overall!

[Kristen R. Heyl]

This brought tears to my eyes. The story shows just how life changes after the loss of a loved one and what drastic measures might be taken in that event. Nicely done bringing the reader into it emotionally.

[Katie]

this was good, really, really good. It has you captured from the very first "Sarah!" It moves fast, but it makes a great short story, 'specially with all the issues going on now.

[Emily Atteberry]

I've been reviewing all day in my computer class, and I haven't come upon anything that grabbed my emotions like this one has. It wrapped me up in the simple narrative style and the way the man's life changes when it is twisted by agony and pain.

I think if you wanted to, you could extend this, using this piece as a story frame and writing a lengthy piece. I would want to read it, if you did.

And once again, Michael Carr, we write about the same things. I just finished a piece about two little girls that died in a bombing yesterday. What's that, three stories that are almost the same, now? Wow.

And the only thing that I really saw is something kind of iffy,
in the first paragraph is:
"That the idea of our mortality was something to scoff."
I'm not sure about "our." I generally avoid it at all costs if I'm writing in third. I think it's just preference and style, though. Up to you.

Very good. I'm adding this to my library.

[Ryan Jaimz Knight]

Damn...pretty powerful stuff in this one, and an excellent use of global issues to create the motive and backdrop for this tale of revenge guerilla-style. Excellent work, could use some more descriptors, and a smoother transition between the events in the protagonist's journey towards becoming a soldier bent on taking out the men who killed his child, but other than that this is a great story. Keep up the good work!
BJH

[Gandré]

Fantastic! Fast -moving, psychologically acute rendition of raising expectation ....cleverly written. you are reaching mastery of every trick of narrative art what creates depth and resonance. my new favorite of yours.

[C. Marie Says, "do..]

so sorry that it has taken me a while! this was one that i just had to come back to, you know! a very well-written piece, micheal, but i have grown to expect just that of you! I love the way the ending fit the beginning. i love how easy it is to hear the words, and see the images. really well-done!

[Raef C. Boylan]

The section at the beginning of the story is great writing.

I don't like the rest of it for personal reasons, as primitive reactions to personal tragedy sicken me...but it is well-written. You handle unusual structure techniques brilliantly

" �And who do you fight for?�
�Sir...no one, sir!� " - just out of curiosity, is this the right answer (from the POV of the sergeant or whoever), or is the lie to emphasise his loss?

I admire your attention to small detail, like the fridge magnets.
Thanks for sharing this.

p.s. has there been another Land Before Time movie??? Why wasn't i informed? Lol.

[Deborah Shepard]

very powerful writing , strong emtionally captivating

[Geontchk]

Powerful story.

[Holly Marsh]

Wow. What an amazing piece. It's a bit full-circle, isn't it? The bomb in the beginning, and the bombs at the end. It just goes to show everyone has their own reasons for enlisting in the military. This is a strong emotional piece, without being too weepy or determined. Nice work!