Some of my best impulse writing in a while I think. I really like it. If you dig hard enough, I am sure you can find something deeper hidden in everything that happens in this story.
(C) Copywritten 2005
����������� My relief arrives and I welcome them, despite how reluctant they are to be remaining in my stead. The smile I offer as I ready myself for my departure is returned sarcastically, which I can only help but sympathize with. There have been many a time when I have been on the other side of this kind of transaction.
����������� My hand reaches for the door and as I pull it open swiftly, I am greeted by a slight gust of mild air--too mild for this time of year. It isn't until I am outside the door--standing in the darkness of the midnight hours--that I hear it. It beats down on everything in sight, peppering the air around me with an ocean of rapping and dripping noises. This rain--this unseasonable downpour that was covering everything before my eyes--stirred me.
����������� I looked down to my shoes for a moment. My beat up little runners that had carried me here those many hours ago would be no match for this kind of weather. The thick black work boots that usually carried me through such uncomfortable conditions were locked safely at home in my closet, along with my winter hat and umbrella. There was nothing to shield myself from this pouring rain. I was naked before the massive force of nature before me.
����������� I hesitated only for as long as it took to realize that the situation would not improve, then took a step forward from beneath the shielding archway that hung over the entrance to the building. The first of the raindrops hit my head harder than I had been expecting. Crashing on the tip of my crown and exploding all over my hair, I begin to worry. The water is cool and heavy, and more of it continues to land every second.
����������� Below me, my shoes come in contact with the semi-flooded pavement of the parking lot. The water splashes out from around them as if it was an innocent puddle, but I know better. This was a puddle that stretched its shores all the way to my destination, which stood a good twenty minutes away.
����������� Beyond the parking lot, I begin down the road leading to my home. My steps continue to clear cold water out from beneath them like a stone landing in a shallow pond, but more rainwater collects around them just as fast.
����������� It isn't long before I pull my earphones from the inside pocket of my jacket and click the little device inside it on. "The music should help" I tell myself as I tune the device to a selection of music to my liking. Landing it on some instrumental heavy metal, I let the device begin to play. There is no point in trying to listen to anything too specific. It is going to be an uncomfortable walk home no matter what. All I need is something to drown out the sound of the rain--that horrible constant crashing of rainwater all around me.
����������� I feel it in my right foot first. The water--cold and terribly bitter--has soaked through my right shoe. It was generous of me to expect the material to withstand such a deluge for as long as it had. And now my attention is nowhere else but in the shocking icy bite in my right foot. Though it is small, it is unmistakable, and I know it isn't going to get any better.
����������� My eyes remain on my feet now as I begin to aim my steps, dodging any large puddles and curling my heels up in an effort to tiptoe through the worst part of this near flooded sidewalk. The rain causes the water to blast up from the ground like gunshots, making my efforts seem futile and nearly unnecessary, but I continue to do so anyway.
����������� The cold dampness in my right foot hasn't gone away. As I gaze around me, noticing that the street is empty save from the tempest falling upon me, I feel it creep around and up the sides of my right foot. More of this icy dark water has soaked into my shoe, and the discomfort causes me quicken my pace.
����������� The song I am listening to quickens with me, increasing in tempo as I speed myself along through the falling rainwater. The music compliments my resolve. I feel as though I am fighting through this horrible, horrible rain. This terrible weather that is trying to wash me away will not claim me so easily, so long as this song--this driving music that I happened upon so fortunately--keeps me in this fighting mood.
����������� More of the street is behind me than in front now, and the rain has not let up. My coat shines in a chaotic damp mess as I bring my gloved right hand up to inspect the palm. It's relatively dry, for which I am thankful. I raise it to run it across the top of my head. The collected rainwater in my short hair is pushed backwards by my hand, but I soon start to shiver as I feel it trickle its way down the back of my neck. Shaking my head to stave off this chilling touch, I return my hand to my gaze. The once smooth dark leather is gone now--replaced by a mess of beaded rain.
����������� The journey nears its halfway mark as my left foot too soon falls victim to the surrounding moisture on the ground and in the air. My right foot has become saturated to the point that I simple don?t feel the need to dodge the puddles anymore. With more than half of my trip home still ahead of me, I realize that there is no preventing this weather from getting to whatever part of me that it wants to.
����������� But I still feel it--this determination inside me. Is it the music, that has only continued to steadily become more driving and powerful to me in this state? I can't even be certain why this urge is so potent. It's not like I am fighting for my life or in some drastic race against time. But I do know that I feel it, and I know it's pushing me to want to march--soaked and chilled by this pounding cold rain--onwards towards my goal.
����������� The rain collects on my head again, but this time instead of bringing my other glove, which I am not even sure is still dry, up to clear it away, I let the rain continue to crush down on me. As it collects I can feel it begin to stream down the sides of my head. A cold droplet finds it way to the corner of my eye, and then pours outward from it once again like a teardrop to continue its way down my cheek. But I don't feel like crying right now. I feel like balling my fists and charging through this freezing rain, however long it takes, until I get to where I am going.
����������� Ahead I see a traffic light. I only notice it quickly. My attention is now drawn towards my right foot again, which is now soaked entirely. The water carries no sense of cold, but it weights my shoe down and makes it feel swishy. My left foot still has a way to go until it gets that soaked. Maybe my one shoe is in better shape then the other? It's possible, but how on earth would that happen? Anyway, it doesn't matter. Such things are trivial right now. The only thing that matters is fighting through this rain and making it home.
����������� The traffic light keeps getting closer. My fists are as clenched as my face now as I continue pacing through the watery streets. I squint to keep the rain from my eyes. Instead, it hangs from earlobes and the tip of my nose. I could bring my hand up to wipe this water away, but would it help? My gloves are probably as wet as my face, and more rain is just going to keep falling. No, don't bother. Just live with it.
����������� I step outside my thoughts and start to wonder what I must look like. There is nobody around to see me, but I can't help but wonder anyway. In this cold night, I am walking down the street quickly, my hands clenched at my sides, my brow knitted and my head held low with my eyes staring forward. I probably look like all those horrible villains you always see emerge from a rainy alleyway; the crack of thunder and flash of lightning marking their dramatic entrance as the audience gets their first good look at what a person who has come from a dark and sinister place must look like.
����������� But what I must look like doesn't matter when I can't be seen by anyone. I'll just keep marching through the rain towards home. I begin to worry once again through once I near the traffic light. The constant movement of my feet that has come with my increased pacing has helped aid the music in my headphones in keeping my mind of my now drowning right foot. But once I reach this light, I may have to stop. I may have to hold my body still, giving the watery discomfort soaked into my shoe a chance to sink further--into my skin.
����������� There isn't much time to think about such things, because before I know it, I am at the light, and I bring myself to a stop. The rain can be seen falling around the traffic light. It looks monstrous and is falling quickly, splashing into the street below.
����������� My attention does indeed travel down to my pour socked and shoed feet, waiting as impatiently as I am for the light to change so that we might continue moving. Seconds that seem to drag on longer and longer barely pass as my eyes, still squinting, stare up at the commanding red traffic light. My breath becomes more and more visible in the cold air as I draw it in and out--my patience is wearing thin now.
����������� Should I race across the street? The thought comes to me, but along with it there is also the thought of not minding my steps as I rush to complete my little crime and landing one of them in a deeper puddle, speeding the process of my shoes becoming completely supersaturated along even further. Finally the light turns green and my attention is once again on my music. I use it to piston my legs to their former rate of movement. Both of my feet are heavy and swishy now as I lift them from their prone position. As I make my way across the street, I resume my bad guy walk, anxious and determined as hell to get what I want.
����������� And then it bites down on me hard. My cheeks suddenly feel cold, even beneath all the rainwater. It's as if the numbness that had kept me from feeling anything in them has gone suddenly, only to bring forward a chilling winery bite on both sides of my face. It is cold for only a moment before the numbness returns as teardrops continue to fall first from the sky, then from my hair and onto my face.
����������� It's not too much further now. I can see my building from here. I want to rejoice but there is no point. I am still stuck under this blanket of wetness that has but to show even the slightest signs of relief. Both of my shoes now feel like fishbowls as I swing them in front of each other. My coat, my gloves, my hair?everything is wet. Everything has been consumed by this relentless rainfall. It all feels so heavy now, and there is no comfort anywhere left to be found.
����������� But it isn't like I can just stop now and let this damp enemy of mine fall upon me indefinably. My goal--my destination--is just over there. I can see it. I begin to fumble in my pockets for my keys.
����������� Much like the traffic light, I begin to wonder about useless things. Making it to my building won't be an instant victory. The dampness will still remain, and could possibly end up feeling worse in a dry environment. But again, why wonder?
����������� Now in the final steps leading to the door of my building, I feel as if I am moving in such a way as to knock down a wall if I happened to run into it. In an almost playful way, I feel like I could really scare the daylights out of some little kids with the way I must look right now. But of course there are no kids out at this time of night--and certainly not in this kind of weather.
����������� My key hits the lock and I yank the door open. It swings open quickly and I dart inside. At last, I am out of the rain. The crashing flood falling from the sky no longer beats down on my hair. I have reached my destination.
����������� There is no instant satisfaction for my achievement however. I stand still for a moment to collect my breath and continue to feel heavy as the water pours down from my head onto my face and neck. In this warmer air, the rainwater is now frighteningly cold as it slides down my skin.
����������� Stepping towards the elevator, I press the button. My hopes that the lift is on the ground floor are shattered quickly after a few seconds pass with no response. Again I am left waiting in my drenched jacket and flooded running shoes. When the lift does finally open, I instinctively dart insides and slam on the button. The door takes an additionally long time to close itself up again and begin moving. As for me, I haven't even noticed that I still have my music blaring in my ears. Had I had it on the entire trip? Regardless, I make no effort to silence it, even though the fighting part of me had dissolved away peacefully.
����������� I remain locked in a frozen position, my senses dulled by how exhausted and heavy I felt. It takes the jolt of the elevator stopping to finally shake me into awareness. I step off and look down the hallway. My door--the door to my final destination, lay at the end of it in plain sight.
����������� This would be the final effort. Though tired and increasingly uncomfortable, there was just enough of that spark--that drive that I had received from that really good song I had playing on the walk home--to push me to trudge down the hallway. My shoes squish under the weight of my legs, leaving soiled footprints in the carpet. My hair is cold now, and as it passes through the air of the hallway it tingles and sends shivers down my spine. I don't care though. My eyes are on the prize?the door at the end of the hallway.
����������� I reach the door and fumble to get the key into the lock. Much like the door to the building, I pull the newly unlocked door open quickly and step past it, into my home--my sanctuary. As the door closes, I stand still again. It's a different stillness than that I had succumb to when I had entered the building. I was home now. My battle for the evening was over.
����������� I get myself all dried off and into some fresh clothing, then I walk over and stand by my window. The rain outside is still falling--falling on whoever it can find still out there. It has not quieted itself to any visible degree from the moment I first stepped into it, which seems now to be such a long time ago. I guess I will let it continue, since I really have no say in it. As for me, I fought through it, and now I stand outside its reach--smiling.
