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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Teens
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Death / Heartbreak / Loss
- Published: 02/11/2013
Sorrowful Rains
Born 1998, M, from Golden/Colorado, United StatesRain is essential to life, yet is symbolic in some forms as sadness or misery. Nobody questions this, just accepts it as true. This is an anomaly with whatever view is taken for human nature. As humans, we are inclined to be curious and critical about things that don’t quite make sense or that we have little understanding for. Often, this characteristic of humans is misplaced in the form of arrogance, but the core instinct is just curiosity. So why, why do we not question rains?
Seymour sat quietly in his chair by the window. It was raining outside. Occasional cars drove by with their wipers sweeping the onslaught of torrenting moisture to the ground only to be greeted with more. He looked upon the battered walkways. There was no one to see hurrying along, attempting to get inside. Seymour watched as the rain came falling from far above and hit the street giving the appearance of an unsteady wave preparing to crash upon the coast.
As he sat, Seymour wondered. Why was there no one out enjoying the rain? Is the rain really so bad that people need shun it? The chair in which Seymour sat was old and not very appealing to gaze at, but he liked it all the same. It was comforting to have something that will be there for a long time to come. Rain should also be this way. Rain will always exist until the world is ripped apart by some long off force, yet it comforts no human, only the ground.
Rain brings life about. The earthworms that once hid from the sun far underground surface themselves and rejoice. The grass grows greener when a rain comes to water it. Why, then, why? It tore him apart wondering about such things. Seymour decided he needed to go and walk outside to see if he could figure out this current mystery occupying him so.
The cold air of the rain-enthralled street greeted Seymour with chilled fangs. The rains battered his hair and forced his eyes to squint in effort to block it from flowing into a sensitive area. The fangs tore at him and battered his naked skin and partially protected body. Clothes could not hold back such water. This, however, did not phase him in the slightest.
Seymour could not grasp any reason for humans to shun away the rain and hide from it except mild discomfort.
“Are we as people so weak that only discomfort can turn us away from something that is so beautiful besides that?” He questioned himself puzzling and puzzling over this topic he had chosen to debate over this afternoon. At that Moment a car came by and slowed to greet Seymour.
“Sir, are you all right out here in the rain? Can I give you a ride maybe?” The driver said through his partially rolled down window.
“No, I’m fine, thank you. Say, why do people dislike the rain so much?”
“Well, I suppose it’s probably because you get wet in it.”
“Yes, perhaps, but rain is essential to life, shouldn’t we rejoice in it?”
“Maybe, but isn’t fire essential to life as well? You don’t see people dancing around in that now.”
“Right, it must be proportion. Fire is good in a small quantity, yet very dangerous if it get’s out of control. Water is the same. A bucket of it is fine and wonderful, yet a torrent could become dangerous I suppose. Thank you sir, I’m sure you must need to get on your way now.
“Right, have a good afternoon.”
The driver rolled up his window and sped off. Seymour was pleased. That was good. However, the topic still bit at the back of his mind. He would make a hot cup of coffee and go back to sitting in his chair. Seymour walked inside and was dripping wet. A fire would dry off his clothes perfectly. Gathering the wood beside his small hearth, Seymour thought back to his earlier conversation with the car driver. Good man. He thought to himself and gently chuckled. A spark caught in the wood and flickered to life. Yes, fire in this quantity was indeed life.
Seymour took off his wet clothes and changed into a dry pair, hanging the wet ones next to the warm life fire. A kettle of hot water boiled above preparing to be made into coffee. He sat back down in his comforting chair and switched on the television. At this time, a news report would be on and reporting about when the rain would end and give to some sun. It was not uncommon for rain to be quickly followed by sun in this area. It was one of a few nice things about living here.
The coffee above the fire whistled to life. Standing up and walking away from the comfort of his old armchair, Seymour poured himself a cup and sat back down. He had a comfy fire, a wonderful chair, and a nice cup of coffee indoors, where it was dry and safe.
The news report came back on and began showing the road accidents blocking up traffic. The reporter motioned to a road that looked particularly blocked up. This accident had occurred somewhat close to where Seymour was living. They went to a live camera and showed a car that had spun off the slippery road and flipped completely over.
“Paramedics are on the scene and trying to break in to the flipped automobile. Currently, they are attempting to open the doors but they look jammed shut, so we’ll have to wait until a fire engine comes to peel them open.” The on-scene reporter said through the gusting rain.
As if on cue, one of the fire engines pulled up close and unloaded a crew with a machine the reporter identified as “the jaws”. These were supposed to open the door and then get the driver out. It was very hard to see the car from the camera angle the reporter had chosen. The underside was visible, but other that that, nothing could be seen.
“It seems that the fire squad has gotten the door open and they are extracting the driver now.” The reporter said again.
The man the fire squad pulled out was badly hurt and bleeding. His neck was bent very strangely. The paramedics quickly checked him over for signs of life. One shook her head “no”.
The camera then picked up and moved in closer to the dead man. They got one quick shot at his face. That was enough for Seymour. The man from the accident was the same man he had talked with on the street earlier.
Seymour understood, now, why the rains were considered sorrowful.
Sorrowful Rains(JCG Clark)
Rain is essential to life, yet is symbolic in some forms as sadness or misery. Nobody questions this, just accepts it as true. This is an anomaly with whatever view is taken for human nature. As humans, we are inclined to be curious and critical about things that don’t quite make sense or that we have little understanding for. Often, this characteristic of humans is misplaced in the form of arrogance, but the core instinct is just curiosity. So why, why do we not question rains?
Seymour sat quietly in his chair by the window. It was raining outside. Occasional cars drove by with their wipers sweeping the onslaught of torrenting moisture to the ground only to be greeted with more. He looked upon the battered walkways. There was no one to see hurrying along, attempting to get inside. Seymour watched as the rain came falling from far above and hit the street giving the appearance of an unsteady wave preparing to crash upon the coast.
As he sat, Seymour wondered. Why was there no one out enjoying the rain? Is the rain really so bad that people need shun it? The chair in which Seymour sat was old and not very appealing to gaze at, but he liked it all the same. It was comforting to have something that will be there for a long time to come. Rain should also be this way. Rain will always exist until the world is ripped apart by some long off force, yet it comforts no human, only the ground.
Rain brings life about. The earthworms that once hid from the sun far underground surface themselves and rejoice. The grass grows greener when a rain comes to water it. Why, then, why? It tore him apart wondering about such things. Seymour decided he needed to go and walk outside to see if he could figure out this current mystery occupying him so.
The cold air of the rain-enthralled street greeted Seymour with chilled fangs. The rains battered his hair and forced his eyes to squint in effort to block it from flowing into a sensitive area. The fangs tore at him and battered his naked skin and partially protected body. Clothes could not hold back such water. This, however, did not phase him in the slightest.
Seymour could not grasp any reason for humans to shun away the rain and hide from it except mild discomfort.
“Are we as people so weak that only discomfort can turn us away from something that is so beautiful besides that?” He questioned himself puzzling and puzzling over this topic he had chosen to debate over this afternoon. At that Moment a car came by and slowed to greet Seymour.
“Sir, are you all right out here in the rain? Can I give you a ride maybe?” The driver said through his partially rolled down window.
“No, I’m fine, thank you. Say, why do people dislike the rain so much?”
“Well, I suppose it’s probably because you get wet in it.”
“Yes, perhaps, but rain is essential to life, shouldn’t we rejoice in it?”
“Maybe, but isn’t fire essential to life as well? You don’t see people dancing around in that now.”
“Right, it must be proportion. Fire is good in a small quantity, yet very dangerous if it get’s out of control. Water is the same. A bucket of it is fine and wonderful, yet a torrent could become dangerous I suppose. Thank you sir, I’m sure you must need to get on your way now.
“Right, have a good afternoon.”
The driver rolled up his window and sped off. Seymour was pleased. That was good. However, the topic still bit at the back of his mind. He would make a hot cup of coffee and go back to sitting in his chair. Seymour walked inside and was dripping wet. A fire would dry off his clothes perfectly. Gathering the wood beside his small hearth, Seymour thought back to his earlier conversation with the car driver. Good man. He thought to himself and gently chuckled. A spark caught in the wood and flickered to life. Yes, fire in this quantity was indeed life.
Seymour took off his wet clothes and changed into a dry pair, hanging the wet ones next to the warm life fire. A kettle of hot water boiled above preparing to be made into coffee. He sat back down in his comforting chair and switched on the television. At this time, a news report would be on and reporting about when the rain would end and give to some sun. It was not uncommon for rain to be quickly followed by sun in this area. It was one of a few nice things about living here.
The coffee above the fire whistled to life. Standing up and walking away from the comfort of his old armchair, Seymour poured himself a cup and sat back down. He had a comfy fire, a wonderful chair, and a nice cup of coffee indoors, where it was dry and safe.
The news report came back on and began showing the road accidents blocking up traffic. The reporter motioned to a road that looked particularly blocked up. This accident had occurred somewhat close to where Seymour was living. They went to a live camera and showed a car that had spun off the slippery road and flipped completely over.
“Paramedics are on the scene and trying to break in to the flipped automobile. Currently, they are attempting to open the doors but they look jammed shut, so we’ll have to wait until a fire engine comes to peel them open.” The on-scene reporter said through the gusting rain.
As if on cue, one of the fire engines pulled up close and unloaded a crew with a machine the reporter identified as “the jaws”. These were supposed to open the door and then get the driver out. It was very hard to see the car from the camera angle the reporter had chosen. The underside was visible, but other that that, nothing could be seen.
“It seems that the fire squad has gotten the door open and they are extracting the driver now.” The reporter said again.
The man the fire squad pulled out was badly hurt and bleeding. His neck was bent very strangely. The paramedics quickly checked him over for signs of life. One shook her head “no”.
The camera then picked up and moved in closer to the dead man. They got one quick shot at his face. That was enough for Seymour. The man from the accident was the same man he had talked with on the street earlier.
Seymour understood, now, why the rains were considered sorrowful.
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