The Rainy Day Blogfest is my inspiration today. Which is good, because 1 – this has been a lingering thought in my skull recently anyway and 2 – my skull aches so I have no personal antectdotes disguised as writing opinion to share right now.
If you read my WDC blog, or follow me on Facebook, you know I got all wet when it rained here last Thursday. A marvelous pouring rainstorm that lasted for a good couple of hours and flooded the parking lot at work. We had a similar storm on Sunday afternoon, and even though it flooded basements (thanks poorly installed gutters :-P), it was once again, amazing.
I don’t know why the rain has such a positive impact on me. It’s like it washes away the cobwebs in my mind and leaves me free to think, create, imagine. It makes me want to put away the distractions of the computer and video games and curl up on the balcony just watching the water fall. Even if no writing happens at the time, it frequently clears my thoughts enough to create when I’m done enjoying the splendor of the storm.
That, and lightening/thunder shows are some of the most stunning things to watch. Absolutely beautiful. And inspired what is probably one of my favorite snippets of my own writing ever. I’ve hung on to this one for years, even though I’ve never given it a solid home.
The sun buries itself behind a thick blanket of clouds, as if trying to hide from the storm they bring with them. A deluge of tiny water droplets splatter with soft “plinks” against the autumn leaves covering the ground: running together and sliding off into the soft earth. The rain exaggerates the smell of freshly dug dirt as it rolls down the face of the carved stone marker and into the open grave just a few feet from where I stand.
The steady patter of raindrops on umbrellas keeps rhythm with the monotonous tone of the priest. The rest of the world holds its breath, waiting to see if he can offer the small gathering any comfort in our time of grief. But the recited prayers and obligatory praises give little consolation.
I don’t move, my blank stare focused on the rain dripping off the edge of my umbrella; the background noise around me is no more than that. I shift my weight and feel the mud creeping up my feet and the water soaking into the black satin pumps that I only wear on those rare occasions when I have to ‘dress up’.
Watching the silent pattern of rain and listening to the droning of the priest has a hypnotic effect on me. I feel my mind drifting, and find myself wondering once again why this happened.
The memories flit through my consciousness; it must have been when we started high school, or just a couple of weeks before. Everything changed then.
I adore your first line. well done.
wow. great description thru the whole thing. and the last line makes me want to know more.
I like the descriptive writing here, and the tension building through it.
Great stuff here Ariana. The ‘world holds its breath’ line was particularly strong. Your descriptions distinguish themselves in my mind despite the fact that I’ve read so many rain stories today that my brain feels water-logged.
By the by, rain has a similar effect on me too; cleansing and inspiring.
Very beautiful, soft, poignant writing.
I love writing that makes me understand everything without having to ask questions.
I hope this is your opening, because that’s the way to do it.
Thanks for letting me read and comment. Nice work.
I’ve always felt the same way about the rain. I grew up in the desert and rain was really a special occasion. I’d stand outside and stare up at it. Storms are so inspiring!
-Mercedes
@ Mercedes – did you get warm rain there or cold? I used to live in Georgia and could just standing the pooring rain for hours and love it. The rain is colder in Utah, but I still love watching it 😀
@everyone – thanks for stopping by and for the kind words. I want to try and make sure I visit all of you in return (for those of you who have a place to visit ^_^)
Great stuff, very atmospheric. I love the way your sun hides away, that’s great imagery.
Although you could lose the “” on “plinks”…
Tessa.xx
Poetic and literary in tone. I love descriptive prose like that.
I’ll see Tessa’s quote marks around plinks, and raise you the quotes around dress up. Quotes might be one of your muse’s “quirks,” you know.
😉
I do like this piece. Artsy.
– Eric
*laugh* the quotes used to be a bad habit that I haven’t managed to eliminate from all of my old pieces yet. This appears to be one of those cases. I’m glad you both enjoyed it, though ^_^