Pluviophile

I just want it to rain...

     Quiet. It's remarkably quiet...as if everything had died. As if the world was ending softly. As if life didn't even exist anymore. A structure, full of living cells and flesh and bone and the blood coursing through it's veins while it stands there peacefully. The wind grasping at it's long and dark hair, the sun just barely caressing it's soft skin, the grass living beneath it's bare feet. 

      It's almost like something that would come from a dream. It's eyelids closed as the raining sun catches in it's eyelashes. Dripping down it's face, the wind roars and tears at it's figure like a lion tearing at it's prey. 

     The structure remains still. It doesn't even move when the rain begins to pound against it as though it were playing a drum. Perhaps it was the way the structure swayed with the wind, or the way it was so resistant to the cold and bitter rain, but something was swiping it off of it's feet. It was a dream. Caught in a different reality. Drowning in a pool of mindless absence. 

     The structure breathed in the empty air and let it seep into it's pores. It was inviting it, not expressing it's hatred for it. It wanted it to nourish it the way that a mother nourishes her newborn child. It wanted it to comply instead of deserting it and it's limbs began to spread themselves wide for the entire world to see. 

     Standing at the top of a point where the people below could see, but the structure saw nothing. It heard nothing. It felt nothing. The only thing it sensed was the rain and the wind pouring into it. There is always a day that comes where we all have to stand on a point. A day where we all have to spread our limbs wide and wait for the sun to release through the clouds and shower us in rays. For us to be swept off of our point and to where we belonged. 

     The structure calmly leans forward, the people below watching in disbelief as it begins to wilt into madness. It sinks, farther and farther down into the twisting dread that was the crowd below. Nothing to save it, nothing to grasp onto it, nothing to hold it tight, it soars downwards into the sea of shuddersome faces. If this was the way things had to end for all, so be it. 

    With all of this rot growing around us, who would blame anyone for being unable to stand for it any longer. The eerie sound of shouts bouncing off of walls and echoing into the distance. The rain pounds and before we know it, the loud sound of the crowd's horrid reactions grow quiet. 

  

     The entire world itself is quiet.

     The curtains are drawn.

     The stage is set.

     The lights flicker into action.

     If there was one word to describe the world in this moment, just one word to drain the silence into your own head for your own realization,

     It would be impossible. There are thousands of words in which can explain this moment that all lead up to one word...

     Gone.

Author's Note

Sorry if this is kinda morbid but I thought that I would just write this out cause it's kind of something that's been going through my mind today. A pluviophile is someone who is relaxed by or who enjoys rain. I personally become very relaxed towards rain and I like it so I would be considered a pluviophile. When you feel the sensation of rain, you may feel as if it is sinking into you and after a while you feel as if you yourself are sinking with it, that's why I used this as a way to explain it. It's not quite as fast but for the person sinking it feels like a lifetime. On that note ciao :^)

Reviews

[M P Ramesh]

F C ,
Being one who has written a lot about rain ....this is a homecoming.

thanks....
carry on

M P