When It Won't Stop Raining

It's cold and dark, and the rain hasn't stopped for days. It feels like it's been raining forever. Poetic really. His face is wet, even though he has no tears left.

The sun has long since set. He watched it, expecting to feel something.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die, but he isn't banking on that. He sits, legs dangling, and stares out into the dark, conjuring the memories he wants. Dredging them from deep in there somewhere.

Childhood memories. Birthday parties. The time he spent with his grandpa. Being Joseph in the school Nativity when he was six and the look on his mum's face. His first kiss, first love. Some wild years at uni. He'd never had any trouble making friends. Being happy was easy. People smiled at him a lot, and he smiled right back.

Pictures of him from back then look like a different person, a stranger. He looks... Healthy. Larger than life.

People don't take pictures of him anymore. They barely look at him. They don't know how. It's like they're embarrassed to see him like this. Or they're waiting for him to get better. To not be like this anymore. To be his old self. He doesn't notice.

Falling in love with Rebecca, how she looked on their first date. The way her lips felt. Her hips. Her hair. The moment he turned and saw her in the church. The birth of their children. Holidays. First steps, first words, first days at school.

All the way up to that day on this bridge, where the other car smashed into them and took them all from him.

The anger and pain bit deep, the hopelessness yawned huge and uncaring around him.

I should have been in the car. I should have been with them. We should have been together.

He hasn't moved, but he's teetering. He's so close. Nearly there. Nearly ready. Nearly done. Something inside tugs. He stands up, shoes slipping on the wet ledge. His hands scrabble at the railing. Didn't they get the memo? Don't they know? He straightens, shuffles forward. The raindrops on his shoes capture his attention. He looks at them, and definitely not at the drop.

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Word count excluding note: 366

Submitted on Friday 19th July at 22.30

*Very Quick Author's Note*

First of all, and most importantly: thank you so much for reading my story! The ha'penny that Vocal will toss in my hat for your eyeballs landing on this humble piece will be well-spent.

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

A Year of Stories

I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 201 day streak since 1st January.


Please do consider lending your support to the other creators who are also on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They are putting out excellent content every day!o

Rachel Deeming
Gerard DiLeo

Please do leave me a comment. I try to reciprocate as many as I can. Leaving a comment makes that easier.

The story behind the story: Sorry this one is another bummer! This is in response to my own prompt: Quote Me Baby. Here is the quote:

I’ve lost my faith in the summer time, Cos it don’t stop raining

Thank you!

Thank you again, most sincerely. Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

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