Rain Season

A bolt of lightning lit up the gray night sky, tendrils of electricity forking through the heavy clouds and drowning out the shine of the few stars that were visible. Rain slammed against the city below, peppering the rooftops and the streets like tiny bullets and scattering the already existing puddles of water as they hit. Spring thunderstorms were often like this in Riverhead, the city which was currently being viciously pelted.

On days like these where the thunder was deafening and the streets would flood with the rain that would fall in just a few hours, every citizen of the city would be huddled in their homes, waiting for the rain to stop so they could get back to their normal lives. Weather in this city was predictable, and every year a week was set aside in order to let the spring rains fall. The intensity and sheer volume of water that would fall from the skies every year are what gave the city its name, and it’s also what kept it running for the months to come.

During this week, the roads were empty, shops were closed down, and every other business or building in sight would be dark. Even the street gangs and drug-dealers would camp until it was over. Only a few select clubs and bars would be open, but there were few that would visit; usually only the die-hard alcoholics and addicts and anyone else crazy enough to be outside, but besides the drunks and the druggies, the city was devoid of life.

...Except for one other person.

Lance was a strange individual, that much was obvious to anyone who knew him. He wandered more than he worked and watched more than he talked. His music selection was also unconventional, but not many knew that, though carrying around a walkman in this day and age definitely turned some heads. Regardless, the viscet enjoyed life and he was happy, and nothing made him happier than the spring storms.

He had always had a unique affinity towards the rain, ever since he was little. He loved everything about it; the sound of the thunder rumbling and shaking the ground beneath his feet, the smells of static and petrichor, the feel of the drops hitting his face...it was one of the only things that brought him real joy.

The blue-furred viscet stepped lightly around a stream that was making its way down the street, taking the filth and grime of the well-traveled roads with it. Spring was the season of renewal; the cleansing of the city only happened once a year and Lance made the most of it. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky, illuminating the shining road for a fraction of a second. His eyes glanced over to a nearby building; a warehouse. He was close enough.

Grinning, he pulled his hood down and made sure his walkman was safely secured in his pocket before starting off at a run, feet scattering puddles of water and sending droplets flying in all directions. He entered an alleyway, finding the familiar stacks of crates piled up on the side of the structures before jumping from the ground to the nearest one, using his claws to stabilize himself as he scaled the pile with practiced speed. The water didn’t deter him though, he had been outside in the rain enough times to learn how to navigate even with the slippery surfaces.

Lance pulled himself up and over the edge of the rooftop, getting to his feet just as a bout of thunder shook the ground, making his bones vibrate. He held out his hands to the sky and closed his eyes, head up as he let the drops spatter against his nose, eyelids, and face. He took a deep breath in, the smell of the storm filling his nostrils and raising his spirits.

He was soaked; his fur was drenched and it was cold when the wind blew through it, and even though he could feel the wetness seeping through his jacket, he didn’t care. It was moments like these where he could be alone and happy, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.