A/N: This is a short little epigraph I had to write for my Creative Writing class. Hope you enjoy!

One Rainy Night

"Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured." ~Mark Twain

It was a dark and stormy night in the land of canyons and deep rivers. Thunder crashed, lightning streaked, rain filled the air. The place was cast in darkness save for two sets of headlights weaving rapidly through curves and corners on the winding canyon roads. Their engines blared louder and louder as they struck swiftly forward. The cars were evenly matched; neither vehicle remained ahead or behind the other for very long. As they raced on, the road became harder and harder to navigate, twisting suddenly and rapidly becoming dangerous as the harsh torrents of the storm covered it with deep puddles of waters.

The two cars took a sudden turn in unison. The car on the right rapidly pulled ahead, but the left car took the turn too hard. The left car swerved to the side, its front end suddenly boring deep into the side of the right car. The crunch of metal on metal scathed the roadway, the sound nearly overcoming the harsh storm. The right car swung to the side but managed to maintain control. The left car, however, was not so lucky. It spun in crazed circles, screeching as the driver attempted to place the brakes. But it was to no avail. The car for a moment became a horrendous monster of metal, screaming and howling with bloodlust as it carried its passenger closer to the edge. The car hit the edge and paused for a moment. It dwindled there, rocking from side to side. The driver tried to open the door, but the moment it swung open, a heavy wind surged in.

That was all the prompting the car needed.

It toppled over the side, its driver stuck as prisoner inside. It fell down into the deep darkness, victim to the rough storm on this rainy night. Meanwhile, the other car drove on, retreating to the depths of growing night.


Many years later, the canyons had long disappeared. Leveled out and forgotten, left to the mystery of the past. In its place a great city now stood. Huge buildings and great structures dotted the new land, filling it to the brim with human life. All around the city, small suburbs sprouted up, hosting dozens of citizens. The oldest of houses here were said to date back sixty years or more, but no one cared. Not anymore. No one, that is, except for the elementary school children on Rodney Way. They'd been assigned a project: find someone who lived before the city had been born and interview them. The kids couldn't have been more excited.

"Look there! Look there!" one of the kids yelled as he ran away from his group of friends towards one of the neighborhood's older buildings. His friends followed after him reluctantly.

"No way, Eric," another person said as she walked up beside him.

"Why not, Suzanne?" Eric whined. He was already halfway up the sidewalk.

"I heard some old guy lives there that hates the world!" yet another piped up. The group parted to let the shortest member of the group run up to Eric. "Something happened to him and it musta really got to him. 'Cuz now he don't never leave his house. My friend's friend went in there and never came out. At least that's what I heard anyways."

"That's why, Eric, what little Rudy said," Suzanne answered as she crossed her arms.

"Sounds like an adventure to me," Eric said, smirking.

"Maybe it is, but I'm not interested," Suzanne said objectively as she began to stride away. "Let's look somewhere else for someone to interview."

The last person in the group finally spoke up. "I don't know," she mumbled, "Imagine what stories we could get from him, like why he's so angry all the time."

"We might get killed, Steph!" Rudy yelped.

"I don't think so. The way he sounds, he's no danger to anyone. Sounds like he's already used up all his anger on himself." Steph started walking to the front door wit h Eric trailing behind her. "I'm going in, whether you guys are or not."

"Fineā€¦" the others said and they all began the trek to the front door.