RAIN
It has been raining for three days straight.
There seemed to be no end to water falling from the sky. Endless.
It started on Monday afternoon. The sky got cloudy in the morning; over the hours which followed, it got even darker until the first drops of rain kissed the grapes on the vine outside my window.
It became chilly but at the same time, the rain itself was not cold. I had to put my jacket on to go outside to get firewood but in a matter of minutes, I would get warm and take it off. That first day, I stood in the firewood shed and just breathed in the air. It was so crisp. So moist. It almost felt as if I was drinking it. As if I had been thirsty for years and it is only now when I had a chance to satisfy my thrust.
The sky looked the same the second day. The same dark grey clouds, crisp air, paddles on the ground. I had to put on my rainboots to go to the shed across the courtyard to get more firewood. I glanced across the river at the little wooden bridge connecting main land I was living on and the island with its few remaining houses, everything which was left of a village of more than a dozen dwellings. The bridge was old; wooden planks were broken in some places, a cable on one side was the only thing to hold on to when crossing. The water level in the river below was rising and there was only a few feet left before the river would take over the tiny structure.
I stared at the scenery until I started to shiver and walked back in. It was warm inside. The fire was cracking in the fire place, which was so big it was taking the good part of the room; the dog was sleeping on the rug next to it. I looked outside at the darkness coming from the forest and closed the curtains.
It was the third day of rain and there seem to be no end to it. The earth was so full with water, it could not take any more in.
I walked to the shed and picked up as much firewood as I could. I was opening the door, when I looked at the bridge. It was under water. I dropped the firewood and rushed to the river. The water level got so high that it was flooding the shore. The river, once so peaceful, shallow, and slow that one could see the sandy bottom and fish swimming next to it surface, got muddy and turned somewhat grey color. It was twice as wide and it was roaring. The steps to the flat fishing area which used to look so inviting on a sunny day, disappeared under water. I stared and wondered what was hidden in the depths of this once so familiar river. What kind of beauty or monsters lived there.
Suddenly, with a crush, one of the bridge supports got hit by a trunk of a fallen tree which was taken by the river. The support leaned and when gave in to the rushing stream.
I jumped back.
Just a moment later, the support on the other side of the bridge collapsed.
The tiny wooded bridge was floating on the river, still attached to one shore. It reminded me of a human, reaching out to save his life. How long will it be before he gives in? How long before the waters take him?
I could not take my eyes off this wooden bridge grasping for the shore. It looked tragic and magnificent at the same time.
It got dark.
The rain kept falling.
I turned around and looked at my dark house barely seen behind the grape vines and lilac bushes.
It felt abandoned.
I walked back, picked up the firewood and opened the door. I did not feel like turning on the light. The windows were wide open. The room was filled with the aroma of flowers and the sound of rain.
I took off the simple working clothes I was wearing and got into the bed.
It was cold.
I shivered and pulled the blanket up to my nose, leaving just enough to breath.
I was still thinking of the bridge and the dark waters of the raging river outside.
I felt like diving deep into this river.
I wanted the unknow from within to come over me and take away the known as I knew it.
My eyelids dropped and I drifted away.


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