The rain

The story is pretty self explanitory.

The rain

It had been raining off and on for almost two years now. I didn't mind. It wasn't a heavy downfall or anything harsh, just the slight spray of the clouds peacefully giving back to the earth. At first, I came to like it. I found comfort feeling the light drizzle mask my body with the tiny speckles of water. It felt refreshing, different from the warm air and heating sun. Eventually the drizzle started getting harder. Drops started getting bigger. The more time slipped by, the more the rain kept coming. It wasn't anything I couldn't handle, but unfortunately I found it to be troublesome at times. I couldn't go out without being drenched or stepping in one of the numerous puddles tracked along the street. It was somewhat restricting, and I hated being held down.

I stopped looking forward to the rain the way I used to. It was no longer enjoyable or understandable to find joy in what was not truly comforting. But whatever, it's just rain. I tried to ignore it, thinking it would soon go away, and I would soon be warm and happy again, but it never stopped.

The rain got harder, thicker, faster. Streets started to flood, homes were dismantled and destroyed. The damp air led to mold; the mold lead to disease. Disease spread and spread, faster than the rain had. I suffered. Everyone suffered. Everything suffered. The world seemed pointless. Where was the sun? Where was the warmth humanity needed to survive in this cold world? Death filled the air, killing all hope in my mind of a happy ending. Even my home was no longer welcoming. The only sanity came to those who had heaters and fires. Why was my heater off? Do I even have a heater? Where was all my firewood?

I looked and looked, searching for a bit of warmth to comfort me, and destroy the rain's curse, but not even a candle lay unburned in my house. I had nothing to grasp, nothing to warm me.

I told myself that I could ask the neighbors for help. I could ask my parents. I could ask my friends. I could ask anyone. I lied. There was nobody left in the world. Everything and everyone was gone. What remained on the Earth was me, my collapsing house, and the rain, the damned rain. Oh how I wish I could see the sun. The shining rays of blissful heat, the loving grip of its burning golden touch. But the sun was gone. Destroyed. Put out by the rain.

I couldn't live like this anymore. Was it even worth it? Would holding on to the freezing reality that I had been left with be worth anything? I do not know. I will never know. However, I am absolutely sure of three things in this dreary world. First, I am alone. I have been and will always be alone. Second, I am cold; there is no warmth left within me or anyone else to seek comfort. Lastly, I will never know when the rain will stop naturally. It could be today, tomorrow, next month or never. There is no way to know, no way to predict the future. But I do know, and am completely sure that I have the power to stop the rain myself, as long as gun shoots bullets. Bullets will always stop the rain.