(October '16) Prompt #3- "There is no rain... yet"

[Kris]

October's 3rd prompt is "There is no rain... yet"



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[ArtisticVicu]

He pushed the branch aside; he looked around as the sound of the others approaching grew louder. He took a step back, looking to the others as he kept the branch out of the way. “We should be good here.”

He gained a grateful nod from the man aiding the very pregnant woman into the crude shelter. The last member of the company moved slowly, his gaze on the trail and woods they had just passed through, as if expecting an attack.

“Come on, Balthazar,” he urged gently. “There’s nothing out there yet.”

“Until it rains,” the man grumbled, slipping under his arm into the shelter. He followed suit, finding that the man had aided the very pregnant woman to the floor leaning against what he could now depict as an old stone wall. He looked around, now able to see the remnants of an ancient home. He looked up. The majority of the roof was still intact over the area where the pregnant woman had settled and it appeared that the vines, shrubbery, and trees had filled in the gaps. It was a miracle that there wasn’t an animal nesting in here yet.

“There is no rain…yet,” the man helping the woman stated. “And when it does come, we’ll be fine in here.” The man looked at him. “Right, Dasan?”

He looked towards the entrance, thoughtful. “We should be fine from both that and the weather. The original structure here isn’t completely compromised and the plant life has filled in what was compromised.”

“Good,” the woman commented with a sigh. She tensed, her hands going to her swollen abdomen with a hiss. The man that had been helping the woman knelt beside her quickly, a hand covering hers.

“Lady Hilma?” he asked concern written all over his face.

“I’m fine, Derek.” She offered him a soft smile, covering his hand. “Just a contraction.”

“Wait, isn’t that a bad thing?” Balthazar demanded.

Derek glared at the older man but it was Dasan that spoke up. “Easy, Balthazar,” he stated, stepping forward to gain his attention. “We knew that she was due at any time. Children do not wait for the most opportune time to be born.”

Derek turned his attention to the soon to be mother. “What do you need, Lady Hilma?”

“For one, for you to stop calling me Lady Hilma,” she chided, though her look was fond. “It’s just Hilma. And two, nothing for right now. I will let you know if I need anything.”

Dasan tipped his head to the side. “Has your water broke then?”

Hilma nodded. “About an hour ago.”

Derek gave her a look as Dasan nodded. “Lady,” he chastised, “you were suppose to tell me.”

Hilma waved him off. “I was not experiencing contractions so I was not worried about it. Now that I am, I’ve told you.” Derek gave her a flat look. She shrugged. “Fine. You discovered it. But still, the baby should be hours away. We’ll be fine.”

There was a low rumble and Dasan looked towards the entrance.

“I don’t know about that,” Balthazar grumbled. Dasan looked at him, curious. The older man was glaring at the entrance. “The rain’s coming in. If we don’t move soon, we’re stuck here till the storm passes over.”

The low howl rolled through the forest around them and they all tensed. All but Dasan. He looked towards the entrance again, curious, and not at all worried. Balthazar hissed in displeasure. “They’re out.”

“Guess we’re here for the night, then,” Hilma stated plainly, as if that settled the matter. Dasan watched Balthazar grumbled as he sat down in a far corner. That was plain enough for him to know that it had been. Dasan slipped his pack off, offering, “If you would like, I could go gather fire material.”

“I wouldn’t go out there if I were you, boy,” Balthazar ground out. Dasan looked to him but there was nothing more than curiosity on the young man’s face. Dasan watched as Balthazar squirmed under the look, which confused Dasan. “Those things are out now.”

Dasan looked to Hilma and Derek. “We’ll need a fire if we’re going to stay here long enough.”

Derek looked as if he was going to argue, but Hilma’s voice overrode him. “Be quick and be safe, Dasan.” She gave him a soft smile. “We’ll see you shortly.”

Dasan nodded and ducked out.

The rain came an hour later in a torrent. By the time the rain started, Dasan had a fire going, a decent pile of wood and kindling behind him and a small opening somewhere in the roof to let out the smoke without letting the rain in. Or the beasts currently releasing low howls beyond their makeshift shelter.

“The rain is nice,” Hilma commented into the silence, her eyes closed. “Peaceful.”

“With the beasts howling out there?” Balthazar asked in disbelief. “It’s more haunting than peaceful.”

“Balthazar,” Derek warned but Hilma placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder, silencing him.

She looked to the older man, Dasan watching all of it with open curiosity. “You have not had good experiences in the rain, then, I take it?”

Balthazar gave a huff of a laugh, his gaze over at the entrance. It seemed answer enough for Hilma, at least, as Dasan returned his gaze to her. She settled and closed her eyes again. Derek met his gaze, his expression something Dasan could not make out. “Get some rest, Dasan.” Derek turned his gaze onto Balthazar, his gaze hardening. “You as well, Balthazar.”

Balthazar grumbled but settled in to sleep. Dasan looked to Hilma, a question on his face. She smiled. “It’ll be a good few hours before the baby arrives. I’ll have Derek wake you.” Dasan’s face became worried and her smile grew. “I promise. Don’t worry.”

Dasan nodded and gave in, settling. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain outside and the low howls that accompanied it. Before he knew it, he was dreaming. It wasn’t something overly coherent. He could feel earth beneath his feet as he ran. But he wasn’t running out of fear, he was running out of joy. The rain around him felt fantastic and he couldn’t help the cheer that went up. Others cheered around him and he found himself in a group, all running just to run in the rain.

He woke with a start, this itch to run strong as he looked up at Balthazar. The older man’s expression was taught. “Kid’s coming.”

Dasan rubbed at his eyes as he got up, looking to Hilma. She was sweaty, breathing hard, and holding tight to Derek’s hand as pain rippled through her. Dasan walked over, Balthazar keeping his distance. He looked to Derek.

“Can you deliver the baby?” Derek asked.

Dasan nodded, touching Hilma’s knee as he knelt before her. He looked to Hilma. “Are you alright with that?”

Hilma nodded, her soft smile pained but encouraging. “I trust you.”

Dasan dipped is head and settled in to work.

Four hours later, a child was born. And as the child fell free of his mother, a howl went up, so loud it sounded as if it was nearly outside the entrance. A chorus joined it, just as close. The child’s cries joined them.

Cleaned as best they could manage and swaddled in a spare shirt, the baby was placed against Hilma’s chest and Dasan settled back where he had been sleeping.

He watched as Hilma and Derek cooed over the babe, and, surprisingly, Balthazar as well. It was like the birth had temporarily removed their attention from the howls outside. But Dasan was completely aware of them, hyperaware of them. And the itch to go outside and run was becoming unbearable. He found himself jerking to awareness staring at the entrance to the shelter. He looked up at Derek, wide eyed. Derek offered him a tight smile. “Join them,” he offered softly.

Dasan bristled, looking towards Hilma and Balthazar. The pair was preoccupied but Dasan could tell that it was all Hilma’s doing. He looked back up at Derek, not understanding. Derek pushed at his shoulder again. “Go.”

Dasan glanced one last time at the other before ducking out. He shuddered, the feeling of the rain on his skin feeling fantastic. He took off at a run.

There were others that joined him and he found himself letting out a cheer that sounded more like a howl to his ears. The others around him weaved with him in and out of the trees and, in no time, he found himself on the edge of a cliff, panting hard but feeling invigorated. He looked at the others and felt, for once, in a place that he belong.

He turned, kicking off the rock he was standing on and landed on all fours at a run.

[m139]

It was somewhat cold outside, Cold, and windy, too. The orange and yellow leaves that had long ago fallen down and were now being blown this way and that across the yard. The skies were a dark, cloudy grey, and with the humidity as high as it was, it was a wonder that the precipitation was still all in the sky.

There is no rain, thought the woman, as she unlocked the door to her dwelling, not yet, anyway. There would be, soon, of course. And when it did- well, it was going to be a big one. She could only hope that her daughter had already come back from school or would manage to get home before the downpour started. Her husband, however, had no chance of making it at all. It was that night of the week where he always worked late.

She jiggled the key in the lock, and then, as usual, she turned it, and pushed lightly on the door to open in. The door did not move. Well... that was unusual. She made sure she had really unlocked the door, then pushed again. There still was no movement. A harder shove. A sound as if something was scrapping against the floor, as the door moved maybe a bit of a centimeter. Something was blocking it. But what could it be?

"Clarisse?" called the woman, "Are you in there? Clarisse?" She knocked, and, after a few moments, the sound of pattering footsteps was heard. They approached nearer and nearer to the door, then, after a brief pause in which the person inside must have used to peep through the peephole, there was the sound of furniture being pushed out of the way, followed by the click of an interior deadbolt turning to the opening position, then, finally, the sound of the door handle turning. The door open about an inch, and from behind it, the eyes of her fifteen year old daughter peered out.

"Clarisse," began her mother, "I demand an explanation-"

At that moment, Clarisse opened the door the rest of the way, and her mother saw.

Her daughter stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with fright. Behind her, the front hallway, usually the neatest part of the house, was in great disarray. The blue vase had been knocked over, and water, glass, petals, and broken stems lay here and there about the floor. And there was the black pedestal, tossed aside. The top was damaged, for it had been used to smash the walls. Indeed, every single picture frame was now tosssed on the floor, and as for the pictures that were once in them, well, all were shreded. The wallpaper, too, was torn, and even some of the hardwood floor tiles had been removed.

"I..." Clarisse began, trembling "When I came home, it was like this and I didn't know what..."

"Shhh.." her Mom began, pressing her to her. "It's okay. It's okay."

Clarisse let herself be comforted, crying into her mother's breast.

"It's just a break-in." her mother whispered, soothingly. "Just a break-in. That's it."

The girl was comforted. But had she realized that the words were not so much meant to convince the listener as to convince the speaker, she may not have been nearly as so.

Indeed, her mother had the words on repeat in her mind. It's only a break-in. She said to herself. [i]Only[i] a break-in. Please, let it be only a break-in.

Her eyes darted here and there across the room. If it was only a break-in, then it sure was a violent one. More like vandalism. But if it was only vandalism, that was okay, too. After all, it meant it was only vandalism. Nothing more, nothing more.

But if it was more?

No, she would not let the thought cross her mind. As long as there was hope...

But it was not as if she could not check...

"Let's go to my room," the mother said, "We can break out some of the tea, if they did not dump it on the floor..."

She managed to smile as her daughter looked up at her. Her daughter smiled back. Fear had left her eyes, now that someone else was here to take care of things.

Her mother closed the door behind them, locked it, and then the two of them went down the hall and up the staircase. In each room they passed, there were signs of the destruction- furniture ripped apart, hangings and bits of wall itself on the floor, broken everything: even the piano itself had had its pegs ripped out and discarded.

And as for the woman's room, well, when they got to it, the door was wide open. The mother looked in, and she saw what she feared the most. The most expensive thing they owned, the beautiful sapphire necklace, was sitting on the edge of the bed in plain sight. They had found its hiding place, opened it, and left it, which means it could not just be a break-in, not just vandalism...

"Mama, look" her daughter began, about to move forward, "They left-"

The hand laid suddenly on her shoulder made her stop. She looked up into her mothers eyes, and read them. Fear. Lots of fear.

:Mom," she began, slowly, herself now a bit afraid, "What's wrong? They left it here, see?"

"They were not after the necklace." her mother began, still staring straight ahead, "They were after information. And something much more valuable. But enough." She turned to look directly at her daughter, her face now filled with grim determination, "We must go."

She grabbed her daughter's hand and then began to lead her out of the house and into the back acres, a rather tree filled area, behind their house. Throughout this time, her daughter, only managed to say one thing. "Dad?" she had asked, to which the mother replied that he would know and would meet them, and that she should be quiet. The rest of the journey was in silence.

To tell you of all the things that they did to keep hidden and undetected until they reached their hiding place, well, that is a different story. I can tell you, however, that they had one ally to hide their tracks: it was raining, hard, now.