Every Friday night we feature a short story, essay, personal narrative,
poem, spoken word, or short film for your enjoyment.
Helen Presents: a flash fiction piece from Kayla Dean
When I woke up this morning, rain drumming on my window, a persistent knock against the glass, there was an electric sort of energy floating around, the type of thing that isn’t usually part of the dry, desert air.
I got up from the warmth of my covers, my feet brushing against the soft carpet, and felt immediately the foggy chill of rain. I slipped over to my window, and peeked through a slat in the blinds, catching sight of the dim clouds hovering. I heard the hush of the storm as it wound its way down my street.
I pressed my ear against the glass— that cold, smooth window that mirrors back the room behind me in the obscuring gray of the sky and listened to the storm.
They say it never rains in the desert. The dirt never looks like soil, the plants store all the water they can get, and the streets collect dirt. But there’s something magical about the day when it does rain, something pleasant about the tapping sound that comes from the patter of raindrops falling on the ground.
There’s something like truth to the soothing music of rain, the pulse of the sky. Something that washes away our frustration, expectation, and doubt.
Rain is like all good music: it lets you lose yourself in its’ sound, be soothed by its’ tone, and refreshed by its’ melody.
Kayla Dean is a student and writer from sunny Las Vegas. When she isn’t writing, you can find her reading, or at the bookstore. Follow her on Twitter at @kayladeanwrites.