Cherished Rain

Rain and Tears

Goddess Rain came down on a Winter's day
and brought gifts to the gods below the clouds.

~~~

Juneau breathed.

Her breath glistened.

She continued walking.

~~~

"Oh! I think I know how Juneau can manage-"

"No, Adaleine," Cassandra cut her short. "It's probably going to involve apologetic cards and sympathetic origami gifts." Cassandra then sighed as she wrapped her hands around her warm thermos.

"It was... I just feel bad for the poor fella, y'know?" Adaleine bit her lip as Cassandra spared her a meaningful glance. "She's rejected all of these wonderful people... I know that Henri isn't a really great person, but I'm worried about Juneau. She might break soon. She talks about education and college applications... for crying out loud, she's already begun rough drafts!"

"I know. I feel it, too, that sense of future insecurity. Leave the situation alone for now, though. It's her life, not ours. She'll figure out something." Cassandra's glassy eyes now peered out of the foggy window. Emotion and color drained themselves the longer she watched, mesmerized, by the rain.

Outside, the weather was monstrous with its many warriors dashing through the dark skies; piloting through the air with its many fine horses called hail. Distinguishing each grey cloud from the next was a skill that but only the golden hawk was capable of. Now, at this time, he was huddled within the small nook of a tree; away from his greatest enemy lightning.

The rain came down rapidly, now, the familiar sound of tap tap reaching the many cold and red ears within the safe high school building.

From the third floor of the school, you could see the garden below. Anyone who passed by in this weather with an umbrella in hand would probably hear the shouts of joy emmitted from the garden.

Everyone danced wildly, leaves spread wide in an attempt to embrace the gifts that they could but only collect in "tearfuls".

Many trees with overhanging branches dripped their collected rain onto the stone benches below. The stone benches, stained with tears they could never have shed themselves, wheezed from the cold. The brick assorted garden floor was stained as well. Flowers of all colors, favorably pink, were rain speckled.

Sodden-haired Juneau Roux disengaged her umbrella as she stood beneath one of the cherry blossom trees. Her school uniform was drenched as well, and it was then that she found that she could but only shiver.

Slowly, rythmically, the rain droplets pattered with innocent steps onto the brick floor from Juneau Roux's umbrella. Puddles formed and water flooded the cracks between each brick. The grey aged plaster was rotting away.

The flowers hushed.

The wind slowed.

The warriors with their many fine horses raged on.

. . . .

And the sound of footsteps then came into the field.

Everything

stood

still;