500 words. 5 minute reading time.
Written for Start With Our Sentences.
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“Rain Always Reigns”
It was raining, when he first confronted his ma.
“What do you mean you’re leaving me?”
She held her umbrella aghast, and the rain slipped through. They fell like diamonds – faceted with the guilt of his soul – they rolled down his coat, soiled his pants and ruined his mood.
When it rained, she always had her way.
“I told you ma,” he said. “I’m going to find my father.”
He’d never met his father.
“He’s dead,” She said, her tone flat.
His hands flexed, comforted against the weight of the gun hidden in his coat.
Afar, the ship horn blew.
It fluttered in the wind and dropped loosely around his ears. “I’m going,” he said.
She held his gaze until he could hold it no longer, and he turned away. Softly, gently he pattered across the pier, and his footfalls lapsed like the rain. The gun tugged at his heart, and his hand itched for the gun.
Only the ship that loomed ahead – the many passengers stayed his hand.
If he shot her, he’d never get away. If he didn’t, he was dead either away.
He stopped before he boarded, gazed upon the mess of pipes and the chug of sound. It was a steamship. Bound for England. Bound for his father.
He took a deep breath before he boarded. Suffused himself in the choke of coal, and the echoes of the rain.
This was home.
This was his ma.
And he was going to get away. A desire overtook, a need to gloat. He threw his gun in the water. He turned one last time,he wanted to remember the look on ma’s face.
The ship horn blew once. He staggered, and immediately knew he was shot. The horn blew again – it masked the sounds of the shot, and he was struck once – twice more.
He was on his knees, and one hand fell to the pier, the other came away – a mix of water and blood.
Ma was watching him, sheltered beneath her umbrella. He would remember that. It made him laugh, and it sounded as bitter as it tasted.
“Did you kill him too?” he asked his ma.
The horn blew again, and her eyes held nothing for the glitter of rain that swallowed him whole.
So this is a bit of an experiment. Apparently how this works is I take a sentence, and loosely structure the opening sentence around it.
Personally, I don’t think this particular sentence actually works at all. Some kind of strange amalgamation of alliteration and rhyming couplets makes the sentence more poetic than prose worthy.
So like any literary faithful – I cut corners, made my own little thing out of it.
This piece marks a turn for me. It’s a not the type of thriller I usually write.
I’m eager to hear your thoughts. What did you all think?
Explore your fiction.
And love your Reality.