Screw it.

You heard me. Screw it. I'mma post Thing the Second. I kinda... sorta cleaned up the ending. I took out a sentence and created paragraphs. I'm not sure if or how that counts as 'cleaned up'. But let's not worry about that just yet.
Hope you enjoy! leave feedback :O

Rain, like royalty, is announced before it arrives.

A carpet of thick blue clouds is rolled across the sky, marking the path that the celestial celebrity will tread. Next, the thunder begins to roll and rumble, a drumbeat heralding the arrival of rain with a quickening in pace and intensity. Soon come the brilliant, breath-taking light displays across the sky; a show of finery and splendor before the coming of a long-awaited guest.

But in contrast with the grand display put on to announce its presence, the rain never falls with a bang. Instead, it begins shyly and quietly, just a few drops at first; a polite knock before coming in an open door.

Today, like many other days, those drops slowly but steadily gave way to thick waves of water falling relentlessly from the clouds. There is something special that happens in between those first few drops of rain and the downpour that follows. In that in-between time, if you listen closely, you will hear the rush of falling rain headed toward you as it sweeps, unhindered by any creation of ours, across the land. That singular, thrilling moment is something that most people don’t care to hear.

Some people will wait until the rain is pounding into their grass to rush outside and grab the scattered toys that their children left on the lawn, brightly colored remnants of a sunny day. They will run out of the open front door at a hasty, though not panicked speed, barefoot as they tromp through the lawn, which has been cleverly disguised as a giant mud puddle. They grab up as much as they can with one armful and rush into the open garage, pulling the door down behind them. Their wives hand them towels and make them stand on the floor mat to drip-dry before coming inside (because running faster won’t help you avoid the rain), shaking their heads (and smiling, secretly) at the muddy, grassy cuffs of their husband’s pants.  The toys, tossed negligently onto the dirty garage floor, are left to dry alone in a sad heap, and the kids will sit inside watching Spongebob, any hint of disappointment caused by the rain quickly forgotten. 

Others will watch the first dark clouds with sharp-eyed distrust, rolling up the hose and packing away the gardening tools. They lock down completely when the thunder begins to roll, windows shuttered and cars snug in the garage, away from any potential danger. The only thing that remains open is the back door, swung wide to reveal the single-pane glass door behind, locked and bolted. When the rain begins to fall they will stand side by side at the glass door, bald pate leaning gently against graying curls. They watch the rain in silence with their arms around each other’s waists, each remembering a rainy day long past.

Yet others will drop the game controllers in their hands and jump off the couch in panic at the sound of thunder. They, too, will run outside, though these are only rushed long enough to breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of the dry ground and lazily walk to the ancient, rusted car in the driveway. With a sigh, they will yank open the driver’s side door and plop down onto the seat as they slowly roll the window up. Then, with the same slow walk, they return to the darkened room in the house, forcefully slamming the door and turning the deadbolt. They will take no more notice of the rain or the storm past a brief moment of noticing the sound of the rain on the rooftop.

But once all the hatches are battened down and all the windows shuttered and locked, once the tools and the toys are safely within the confines of shelter, something unusual occurs.

If you are brave enough to chance the rain and storm, you can walk down the middle of a street and get a tingle down the back of your spine at the sight of closed-up houses with blank faces. Somewhere inside, you start to wonder what happens when nobody is watching.

The opportunities for the unusual or impossible have become infinite.

Right now, right where you are standing, anything could happen.

Anything that you have dreamed during a similar rainy day while locked inside, or while staring blankly at the pages of a textbook, is suddenly possible, even probable.

Things that seem mad when slid underneath the dissecting microscope of someone else’s eyes can be reality, when those eyes are turned away, driven inward by the threat of storms and wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

[Okay, in retrospect, there really isn't an ending. Please forgive me. I'll post a revised version later.]
[All works and characters © me. <3]