Flash Fiction

The Drought

The heat soaked deeply into everything. My lawn was past parched, the soil exposed and cracking under the merciless sun. I would turn on a sprinkler if it were legal. Three months without a drop of water from the sky, another eight since a real storm passed through. A lot like my life, dry and lifeless.

I seared my lungs with a deep breath. The thermometer didn't read well when the mercury was above 95. I guessed at 98. The air was so stagnant, it weakened the shade. Air conditioning wasn't appealing either. The compressor was struggling to keep up, its constant whining was beginning to grate on my nerves. Being on the porch, not moving, felt the better option.

A woman with a floppy white hat, clothed in a brightly flowered summer dress was moving along the other side of the street. She carried a wicker basket under one arm and going door-to-door. I almost smiled, the stifling it away, at the idea of a salesperson attempting commerce in the dog days of a drought. I doubt there was anyone with the energy to be kind.

Undeterred, she moved from house to house, her hips creating movement in the dress as if a pleasant breeze was blowing about it. Her posture defied the heat, boldly challenging the idea that it could sap one's strength.

She had a brief conversation at each house. A sign of failure to be sure, though she always moved to the next smartly, like it was all part of a perfect plan. When she reached the house across from mine, she stalled and turned toward me. I didn't even straighten in my chair, too exhausted to care about her opinion of my slouch. She lifted the brim of her hat, exposing the reddest hair I had ever seen, happy curls that battled with my mood. She smiled and waved. I grunted and raised my hand slightly, not wanting to be rude, but also desiring to conserve what little energy I had. She returned to her doors, never looking back.

It was deep into the afternoon, the never ending sun still high in the sky burning away every drop of happiness, when the woman finally reached my house. She had traveled relentlessly down the street on one side and was returning on my side. A task of hours that seemed daunting in such heat.

"Any luck?" I asked as she approached the steps to my porch.

"There's no such thing as luck," An angelic voice returned. Her head rose as she ascended the steps, her smile more radiant than the sun. Her skin was perfectly colored, not flushed with exertion or pasty from the heat. Untiring eyes graced her face with a green tint that excited her hair. I was mesmerized.

"What are you selling?" I ask, straightening in my chair. My old Foghat t-shirt felt a little immature, unlike when I donned it in the morning.

"Rain," She answered with confidence that defied the insanity of her words.

"Rain?" I clarified.

"Yes," she said, her smile feeling like a cool breeze, "life-giving waters for all your greedy plants."

"I'll bite," I said, not wanting her to leave to quickly, "what's the pitch?"

"No pitch," She answered with humor in her words, "$1 and I end your drought."

"Is there a payment plan available?" I joked. She moved a step closer, and I could swear the temperature dropped.

"No, Sir," she replied. "The fee is $1, payable in advance." She smelled of spring flowers. All my senses were heightened, excited at her closeness.

"Do you have many takers?" I asked. Her laugh was the song of angels, soft and happy, full of meaning beyond the humor that provoked it.

"Obviously," she answered, "I have had none." Her hand gestured to the parched world as if I was the fool. I found her insanity intriguing. An escape from my lifeless existence. I pulled my wallet from my pocket and found only twenties and a five.

"How much rain will this get me?" I asked, brandishing the five.

"Quite the storm, Sir," She answered. Her perfect eyes twinkled in excitement. I rose from my chair, standing a head taller than she. Looking up, she held out her hand, patiently waiting for my payment. I admired her little nose, so impeccably placed between her perky cheeks. There was so much life in her. "All purchases are final," She warned me as my hand neared hers. I laughed at the con. It was worth the $5 just to lighten my day.

I placed the money in her hand, and a cool shiver ran up my arm. She placed the money in the basket, and the basket down on the porch. She removed her hat freeing a million curls that danced happily in the fiery heat. The hat was placed carefully on the basket, then both were scooted against the house, deep under the porch roof. Next to them, she added her sandals. I smiled at the process, wondering how far she was going to take her game.

Barefoot, she walked out effortlessly onto the frying pan of my lawn. She turned back to me, the sun increasing her beauty. She raised her hands to the heavens, looked up and an unnatural sound came from between her lips. An undulating song without words, deeply toned, but so sweetly sung. I was mesmerized, barely noticing the darkening sky.

She turned slowly, singing her ballad to nature itself. My eyes followed hers to the sky. Clouds were gathering, deep gray and darker black colliding, pulled by her song. I stepped forward, amazed at the violation of physical law.

The first drops caught me by surprise. Heavy with moisture, they exploded on my dry skin. I heard them gather into an army, attacking the ground with an increasing tempo. Steam generated on the cement, and the air began to cool.

"You're a goddess," I said. She laughed and twirled on her bare feet, uncaring that the rain was increasing. She held out her hands, collecting the water as it fell, showing it to me.

"Are you satisfied with your purchase?" She asked me.

"Most satisfied," I replied. The rain turned to a storm, a $5 storm. We ran laughing onto the porch where she had wisely protected her hat and basket. She turned to me and my breath froze in my lungs. The rain had soaked her dress, revealing all that should be hidden. I tried helplessly not to see, but her beauty was beyond compare. Every curve was a delight to my eyes. She moved with grace, her smile parting my misgivings like the prow of a ship.

"You seek more," She said.

I mumbled something unintelligible as I moved backward. There was no courtship, no wooing, just unbridled sexuality. I feared I would go too far, cross boundaries that would turn me from man to predator.

"There is one more drought that needs ending," She whispered, her lips a hair's breath from mine, "This one will cost you nothing." Honey coated lips blended into mine. Their soft strength drew passion from my soul, begging me to ignore convention and live in the moment. I was only a man. She had weakened my defenses until they were no more. I became the predator, devouring her loveliness with all my being. We moved as one while the storm raged on, lightning illuminating our joy, thunder echoing our climaxes.

"Who are you?" I asked as I held her breathless from our play.

"Rain," She answered. And I believed her, for my drought had finally ended.