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The Raindancer by Chris Skoyles
RaindancerIt rained last night, you know.

A vast, belligerent rain that trounced through the forest outside my window, destroying every last thing that dared show signs of life, raging with venom and bringing turmoil and apocalyptic anarchy to the otherwise calm forest.

Suddenly, she seemed satisfied with her work.

This ferocious rain allowed herself to smile, and she came dancing on my window, inviting me to come play.

I was in a sort of hedonistic state of comatosis; a million and one desires all rushing through my mind with no real place to go, but an urgency to get there. Though I was in this heavy sleep, The Rain continued to dance on my window, seduce me with her sweet smell and entice me with her luscious form.

I couldn’t help but go and play.

I joined The Rain now, dancing hand in hand with a smile, every drop that smacked against the soft, damp floor guiding our rhythm. The Rain laughed, and I laughed along, embracing the cool atmosphere on this blackest of nights and praying that my dance with the majestical rain would never end.

But The Rain, she was schizophrenic, and she changed.

Suddenly, we no longer danced. Suddenly, we no longer embraced the beauty of this blackest of nights. Suddenly, we no longer smiled.

The Rain, however, she turned her lips into a crooked and engagingly sadistic sneer. Her eyes sparkled with a glint of dementia, and her face grew red with a vengeful passion. She flashed her teeth and lashed out.

The Rain smacked me this way and that, against the spiteful, rugged backs of the forest trees and onto the vicious tops of angry rocks.

Soon, The Wind joined in, and the elements came together like a cyclone of thugs, violently kicking and viciously punching, throwing me across the forest and high into the dark sky and dropping me back down to earth with effortless aggression.

The Sun began to rise.

The Wind and The Rain ran for cover, hiding behind some distant mountains. They were scared of The Sun, and fearful of his fantastic fires. They left me to die in the middle of the cold, desolate forest; battered, beaten, bruised and broken.

The Sun tried to help, wrapping me in warm, golden bandages, but I doubt if I’ll ever be restored.

I danced with The Rain; things will never be the same.

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