Was it Ever Really Rain?
written by Claire Bauer
edited by Kaleb Knowles, Val Thompson, and Brandon Cochran
It would take more willpower than I could ever muster not to hate them. The people filling this busy street. So many of them, just meeting, greeting, talking, walking, just silly little normal people doing silly little normal people things.
I breathe in the cool night air as my boots clack against the sidewalk. The wind is whispering in the spindly city trees, fluttering through the buildings. The sky is a bleak gray surrendering to black, covered in clouds, as it always is. It could rain at any moment.
Apparently, no one else is bothered by that anymore.
I pull down the brim of my worn black baseball cap to cover my eyes, hunch my shoulders to make my thin, pointy body seem larger than it is. If Lady Luck is kind tonight, this will be enough protection to ward off the over-friendly, and the not-so-friendly sections of humanity. It’s always the fringes, the extremes which are the most dangerous.
The darkness helps, I suppose. It’s not like I have ever known anything different — I haven’t been out in daylight since I took my first steps. It’s gotten to the point where I’m not really sure what natural light looks like anymore. If I’m honest with myself, I don’t really miss it. Why would I long for something so open, so dangerous?
I weave through the crowd, dodging any possible human contact with the skill of a cat and the desperation of a ghost masquerading as a human. The first skill is one I was naturally born with, the second stemming from my complete and utter isolation. A paraphrase of the first words I was told: you are a wisp, a fragment of a being. If someone touches you, it might make you real.
Unfortunately even wisps need something to sustain them, now and again.
Drops begin to fall, but it is inky black now, and it is unidentifiable in the dark. Cars start to whizz by, the rain making everyone suddenly nervous.
No one recognizes me. No one talks to me, or cares that I exist. I am lucky, but I cannot bring myself to thank the Lady. I know I need to stay invisible, but I hate it.
Suddenly, the sounds of sirens scream through the air, howling, scraping at eardrums, clawing its way into everyone’s subconscious, sinking its teeth into the fear it causes there.
People start running. I can hear their frantic, worried thoughts; they are unanimous.
“I have to escape”
I should run too. I take a few short steps. But-
It has started to pour.
I sink down, almost falling into an ornate black bench, all fight gone. I cannot look at the people around me, running for their lives. Hope has deserted me; Luck has betrayed me; Death has come for me. Defeat echoes in my ears, and I can not muster up the strength to fight.
I tilt my face upwards, towards the rain that is only pretending to be life-giving. Immediately, I feel some power awaken inside of me, reacting to the liquid’s presence on my skin, sparking blue to fight against this attack. My power — my magic — still wants to fight. Despite its culpability, its complicity in my predicament it pulses, sensing the impeding danger. Trying to convince me to breathe longer. It has no sense of futility like I do.
It is too late. I am drenched. There is no escape.
Red light suddenly explodes from both ends of the street, flashing a strict warning to anyone foolish enough to be in the vicinity. I was once told they also flashed blue, but that must have been a long time ago.
A veritable army of men advances on me, their steel boots making heavy splashing sounds as they slosh through the falling substance.
I cannot bring myself to look at the weapons they carry, so I shift my gaze downwards, staring at the ground. It pools on the street now, glassily reflecting the red that is draping over everything.
It makes the liquid look exactly like blood.
Claire Bauer is an Earth Sciences student at Simon Fraser University, Canada. She enjoys hiking, writing short stories, and playing videogames. This is her first published work.
