When It Rains

She stared out the window, watching it rain.  Great sheets of water cascaded down the window pane, slamming into the ground in a deafening symphony of noises.  If you listened close enough, the different notes could be detected.  It was as beautiful as anything written by Bach or Tchaikovsky.  Beneath the ever increasing rhythm of the rain, the radio played.  However, it was barely audible and the words couldn’t be understood.

Outside, nothing moved through the soggy marsh that had been a backyard only an hour earlier.  The birds that had been crying to each other were gone.  The squirrel in the tree making strange, very unsquirrel like screechings, had fled to hide in their nests.  Only the water moved.

As it drained through the lawn, currents formed.  Some moved slowly through broad, open expanses of grass.  Others moved quickly, creating miniature rapids around paving stones, garden gnomes, and a bird bath.  She hated the bird bath.  Now, it was overflowing, helping fuel the flooding currents that ran towards the doors and foundation of her house.

She turned away, moving into the house, away from the water and the rain.  It wasn’t a thunderstorm, there hadn’t been a single clap, just torrential rains for the last hour.  She hated rain too.  Her backyard was carefully cultivated to not need much water.

The ground rumble.  She felt it under her feet through the floorboards as well as hearing it.  It wasn’t thunder, but something worse.  Something buried in the ground, something that grew only when heavily watered.  She sighed and gave up on getting any peace and quiet.  She walked to her room, grabbed the shovel and the shotgun and went back to the window.

She could see it now.  The ground was churning, a mountain of mud rising through the water.  The water went around it, as if afraid of what would come from the mud.  She understood.  She feared it too.  She raised the window and used the frame to steady the shotgun as she leveled it at the rising mound.

Her heart rate increased.  Her breathing became shallower, until she gave in and held it.  Then it stopped.  The rain just ended.  Clouds that had been obscuring the sky began to fade and a glimmer of sunshine could be seen.  She exhaled and grabbed the shovel.  It would wait for another day.

©Hadena James 2014

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead or actual situations is completely coincidental.

Next Post
Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Ms Not So Little Smarty Pants

In short, anything and everything

Plus Size Plus Meds

Weight Loss Adventure

Nerdy Fashionista

Fashion for those who love the Nerd Life

C Patt

A safe place for Paper Sisters to roam

Village Books

2513 Bernadette Dr, Columbia MO 65203 (573) 449-8637

Susan Finlay Writes

Mysteries and Suspense


It's going to be HUGE!

Maria63303's Blog

Just another WordPress.com weblog

Roger Radford Journalist & Author

Thrillers with a Twist

Characters in Progress

Developing character on the page and off

Me and my writing life

A blog about books, my ideas and what I've learned as I live life as a writer.

Not So Easy Breezy

Appreciating the hard things in life

Rachel Poli

I read. I write. I create.


more than one way to skin a cat


easy reading is damn hard writing


Finding The Write Direction Write Now

Jodie Jackson Jr. - Author

I wrote a book ...

%d bloggers like this: