FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Rain
This is my first original work that I have ever submitted on any website, so reviews containing constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. This is not a story, as such, but a small piece of writing I did one night that I thought I would submit. Reason being, it will give people a taster of my writing style and ability, in order to improve. I am not even sure if this is the right category, but it’s here for now! Enjoy, and don’t forget to review.
“It’s really coming down hard tonight, do you think we should stay and wait it out?”
“No. We’ll go. Let me fetch my coat, then we’ll leave . . .” A female voice disagreed.
The rain thundered all around. It was a dark, cloudy night . . . cold too.
“Come on, my dear . . .” A male voice called. It was strong, forceful . . . familiar somehow.
The rain continued, endlessly. It pounded on the road, the street, the roofs, it was relentless.
“Quickly now, we don’t want young Elliot catching pneumonia.” The male voice urged.
“Oh, hush, Harold. You worry far too much . . .” The voices were disappearing, almost fading away into the rain.
“No . . . mother . . . father . . .” A young voice called out. I know that voice . . . don’t I?
“Look! He’s talking again!” The female voice cried with delight.
“No . . . don’t go . . .” the young voice begged.
“Harold! Come and see!!”
“Dear, we must go; otherwise it’ll be too dangerous to travel!” The man called Harold argued.
“Please don’t . . . please don’t go . . .”
“Ah, poor dear, he’s babbling now . . .” The female voice tutted, as you would to a child.
“Don’t . . . go into the rain . . .” The young voice pleaded desperately.
“Lucy, now come on! Geoff does not like to be kept waiting!!” Harold came up, his shape obscuring everything. A large man, one who walked with confidence, authority . . . he was a Lordafter all.
“Alright, I’m coming.” The female voice belonging to Lucy replied.
It was all becoming clear now. A dream . . . no . . . a memory . . .
“No. I don’t want to watch this.” A loud, real voice stubbornly snarled. Elliot recognized it as his own. He was watching his memory from above. He could see his parents fussing over a two-year old toddler in the waiting room of an inn. The rain could be seen pelting against the windows. He was certain there had been other people there, other guests . . . but this was his memory. A memory from 17 years ago, he wasn’t able to walk properly back then, let alone see the other guests, and memorise their faces.
The dream-memory faded again. They were in the carriage. The dreaming Elliot saw himself be held by his mother, Lucy. The horse-drawn carriage rocket violently in the storm, but its passengers seemed unfazed. The horses struggled in the weather.
“I don’t want to watch this.” He said again. There was no change. “I REALLY don’t.” Elliot shouted, but all he could see was Lucy holding her little toddler in her lap, unaware of his watching eyes.
“Please . . . no . . .” Elliot almost cried. The dream faded away for a second . . . then returned in a flash of images, it looked as though it was a video being played on fast-forward.
First the rain, that endless rain pounding against the wooden carriage . . . then the lightning and the roll of thunder . . . silence . . . silence as Elliot resumed his ‘birds-eye’ position above, silence as he watched the horses stumble, the second tripped over the first, causing the whole carriage to tumble into the ditch, then the lightning . . . the thunder . . . the fire . . . oh, the fire. It blazed and burned and swallowed everyone . . . then the screaming began.
Hearing his own strangled cries sent chills down Elliot’s spine. Seeing his mother try to get out, to escape . . . wanting to help, but being unable to . . . it was the mother of all nightmares. The feeling of complete helplessness, of being forced to watch. The fire, the lightning, the blinding sounds, the deafening thunder, the darkness of the smoke. Elliot was choking, the baby was choking, his parents were choking . . . the driver, Geoff, and the horses were choking. Everything was turning mad . . . and the rain . . . the endless rain . . .