100% chance of rain
Written by: blistertoe
written by blistertoe (blistertoe.com)
Police lights turned outside the backyard window. James stood watching with nothing else to do. Caught captive in the sprinkling of rain. Each step he saw in a new drop. Another idea in a new drop. Across the street, the house with the noisy dog was quiet.
One thing had happened. But on the window, a thousand raindrops had landed. A thousand ideas. A thousand possibilities of what really happened. All of them would spread. Neighbors were emerging. Evolving from their worlds like slow Cro-Magnon. Rakes rested on houses. Mowers calmed down with the lift of a handle. Jump ropes sank. Everyone stepped into the streets like a July 4th parade. Their gaze fixed on one thing. A police car parked crooked in a driveway. Lights slow going. Silent. Just the revolving monotony of red and blue. The sense of sound melted down into a gradual absence. The absence of one sense immediately heightening the others. Dirt and summer heat waved up from the streets in a musky haze. More neighbors spilled from backyards. The tanginess of barbeque growing putrid in their mouths. Popsicles were moldy and sticky and dripped down the little ones’ hands. James saw from the window the final crescendo of Our Town on a cheap MGM backlot. All the dropped clues and songs and dances pieced together so nicely. A big white shiny smile. A gay two-step hand in hand past town hall. This fascia was shattered by a police car.
James flicked back the window lock. Lifted the heavy wooden window with a shaky arm. He propped the hammer in the corner to keep the window from crashing down. The damp musky breeze hit him first. Garnered the deepest association. On the news at lunch, he knew it would be here after lunch. The green globs slid towards home as an unstoppable force. Leaning over a half-eaten bologna sandwich, James was enthralled with its power. We knew it. We knew it and we could do nothing about it. Tomorrow, it would rain. While we are cleaning up lunch, it would begin to rain. Slowly. We would look up, unsure. Stick out a hand and verify. The hard, cold force of one drop would confuse us, two would assure us. It was raining. The drops would increase slow, and then gradually drop faster and faster as we hustled the patio furniture inside. The dusty dank scent would leak up from the roadways and driveways. Our foreheads would be dotted and our arms would collect drops in our little hairs.
James knew it all already. The rain would come. It would spoil pick-up games. Postpone reunions. Push a bride to tears. But they would ignore it. Like he ignored it. The silly superstitions he would try would not matter. He could still eat Fruit Loops even if something bad happened the last time. He could wear the blue boxers. He could think sunshine. Say it three times. Nod. Put away all his dishes. It would still rain. The silly superstitions would not change the rain from coming his way. He saw the looming green coming. It was on two stations.
His stomach still felt heavy though as he left his lunch at the table. He shouldn’t have put on the blue boxers. He shouldn’t have tempted whatever it was. He knew what happened the last time. A dampness spread through him. He tried to ignore it. But it sat with him and reminded him. But he looked at the TV. The bloated green waves had not changed. And wouldn’t. The events of today did not have a specific pattern. Patterns attached themselves. James attached patterns to find excuses. He was aware of it. The processes. The patterns. The reflections. It must have been this…all the excuses. No chance. No choice. It was coming. He always knew it. James sat down. He was going to be there regardless. Like the rain. He didn’t understand why everyone was so shocked to see a police car.
written by blistertoe (blistertoe.com)
Staring out of the window – Writers do that a lot, right?
It was a superb narrative. One I enjoyed reading. And I absolutely loved the second last para to have an insight on the character. Great job. Thank you for posting this piece here.