2 Rain of Terrors

2 Rain of Terrors

The first thing that I do remember is the rain. For those inside, it seemed like normal precipitation. The streets were wet and quiet, except for the silent hum of raindrops and cars in the distance. People were grumpy, wearing raincoats and carrying umbrellas. There was no wind.
               But it was different, when you were outside, getting wet. The water didn't feel like water at all. It was warm and sticky. It smelled funny. It tasted funny. It was sugary, for some reason I can't explain. It wasn't sweet, it wasn't nice at all, but I remember kids opening their mouths and sticking out their tongues, as if trying to catch every possible drop.
               It was awfully quiet and peaceful during those rainy days. I don't really remember why, but I remember thinking that life just got to the point of being boring to death. Ironic, really. Knowing now that those were the days when life held its breath as hard as it could, struggling, refusing to let go. And then, it did.
               I smiled a lot during those days. I watched my hands, wet, cold. I sang. Nobody knew, back then, what was coming. All those little bits and pieces, gentle warning signs, were there, unnoticed, ignored. Life carried on to its last moments oblivious, uncaring, bored, and a bit annoyed. And all that mattered back then is now gone. And for some reason, it makes me smile again.

               My memory of that time is strange. I remember everything around me. Every sensation, even the smallest details. But it makes little sense. There is something missing. There is someone missing. I remember a shell. I felt movement, my own. I remember all that I saw, in flashes, randomly playing through my head. I remember the emptiness. The vacancy inside. I remember that noone noticed. Noone cared. From the very beginning, I was alone.
             

*     *     *

It's no use going back to yeasterday, because I was a different person then.

Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, 1865