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Hello. My name is Sophie. I am eight years old and live with my mother in our little house in the countryside.
The day I began my life anew was one like so many before. My mom sent me back to my room, to do something quietly by myself because her head was hurting again. I think she doesn't want me to see her like that. She is almost always in pain since dad left us and always under a lot of stress. Then she prefers to lay on the couch by herself with her wine and pills.
But I'm not bothered by that. I like to be alone in my room. This is my refuge and reminds me of my grandma who made the room look beautiful with me and often told me stories in the evening while I was cuddled up in my favorite blanket.
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I like the "The Story of the Weeping Rain" the most. Grandma always said that the rain was sad because everyone is scolding him as they like the sun more than him. And that's why the rain always cries. Yet the rain would be happy if someone played with him. He isn't bad after all, because he doesn't only wash away the mud, but also sorrow and worries from people's minds. You should just give the rain a chance and get him to know, she always said.
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Grandma and I always loved the rain. We always ran outside in the rain and played together. Even though mom always chided grandma afterwards, because my clothes got wet and dirty again and I sometimes became ill the next day. But there was no stopping us, and we just continued, nothing could separate us and the rain. Not even mom.
One time granny said that when she was no longer around, she wants to look after me as a drop of rain to make sure I'm okay. Then she looked very sad and that made me sad too, I didn't want to hear about it, so I pressed myself against her very tightly. After all, grandma was the only one in our family who understood my love for the rain. I shall never lose my granny.
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There has been no rain today and grandma was gone, so I sat in my room and drew a picture for her and the rain. I was already looking forward to showing it to her.
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Suddenly, I heard silent knocking at my window pane. It was raindrops! The rain wanted me to come outside and play with him. Mom would surely be upset if she knew I was going outside alone in this "bad weather", but she is asleep at the moment and I'll be back before she wakes up.
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So I quickly fetched my yellow favorite rain coat, my rubber boots, my red favorite ball and the picture for grandma and headed out the door.
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I lived near to a small forest where there was always a lot to discover. Especially in the rain.
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There were no people outside yelling at you to be cautious with the ball. You can jump in puddles without interruption. No bikes or cars on the road to disturb your play.
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I had so much fun I forgot a lot. Even the time.
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Oh, it's dark already. Mom will surely wake up soon and rant because I was outside again. I had to get back home quickly.
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But I …
never made …
it there.
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Because suddenly I saw a bright light on the way home and heard loud squeaking, then a loud crash. I was frozen with shock when something hit me so hard that I fell to the ground. I was in so much pain. It hurt so much. It should stop! In the distance, I heard someone shout "Fuck, Fuck" or something like that. I didn't knew it all that good anymore. I was so tired. So tired that first my gaze blurred and then my eyes fell shut. I just wanted to sleep to make the pain and fear go away.
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I suddenly awoke. A pang of pain ran through me. I heard a murmur. My head was dazed. My gaze was blurred at first, but then became clearer. There was a man in my field of vision, who attempted to dumb the soft mud on a mound. More and much more, he didn't want to stop, not even as the mud ran between his fingers. He appeared to freeze, as he shivered and whined. He seemed not to notice me because he just continued to talk with himself and said things like "there better not be evidence", "nobody will know about it", repeating "No, no, no" again and again. What should no one see? I saw something red in the mud. I tried to stand up to take a better look, but my legs were weak and shaky. That's my ball, in the dirt, no doubts! What did my ball have to do with this?
I had no idea about what was going on. I was afraid of him, I was not comfortable with him. I didn't understand what he was doing. What is startling him so much? I was scared. I just wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I didn't feel the air that normally flew through my chest. I did not feel my heart beating, although I was so afraid. Why didn't it beat? Why was it so silent like mom after she had taken her pills? Had the man given me pills? Did mom always feel like that? I wanted to ask him what he has done, but couldn't say anything to him.
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The man rose up and turned around. He looked in my direction, became all pale and looked at me in fear. He was afraid. Unbelievably afraid. He was panicked? Of what? What was behind me, was it dangerous, was it huge? I carefully turned around. Poooh, no, there was nothing but the rain's tears, which were only stronger than before. So the man was afraid of me? How did he know me? Why should an adult be afraid of me?
I didn't understand him, what was his problem? All of a sudden, he knelt down in front of me, a grown-up knelt in the dirt in front of me. He wept bitterly, his body shook. He begged for forgiveness. He said that he was incredibly sorry. He said he didn't want it. He didn't stop to beg, to cry, to shake because of fear, guilt, and grief. I don't know why. What he told made no sense. I didn't understand it, didn't understand him. But couldn't ask him.
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I was sorry for him, how he crouched there and couldn't calm himself down. He's clearly not evil. He didn't do anything to me after all. I just wanted to tell him that everything's alright and he should not cry, that everything would be alright. But I couldn't speak. I wanted to comfort him. And I remembered how my grandma always laid her warm hand on my cheek and smiled at me to comfort me.
So I laid my hand on his cheek. But she wasn't warm. She was cold. Pale. Wet. Like the rain. But I saw it comforting the man nonetheless.
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And I saw how he slowly became the rain's tears. Mixing with them and how he fell into the ground.
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I was alone again. I felt sad. I gazed up into the clouds that just started to rain even more, as if he wept for the man. But did he really weep for him? Or for me?
I saw the mound. I didn't know what he had buried there. And why he wanted bury my ball within it. But I was too afraid to find out what he buried there. I didn't know why. It makes me sad to merely see the mound. It was as if the rain didn't want me to know more, as he knows that it would only make me sadder. But the rain rinsed my ball free and he rolled down the mound. As if he wanted to give me one last gift. I looked for the most beautiful flower, picked it and laid it atop the mound to say thank you.
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Since that day, the rain had never stopped to cry. I never saw the sun again, never felt the snow again, not even saw the starry sky through the clouds. Always when I woke up, I only saw the tears falling on me from the sky. I still love to play with my red ball in the rain, but I wished that the rain would no longer be sad.
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I'm almost always alone. Even when people sometimes stray to me. Some played with me and my ball. But they gave me names not belonging to me. They don't know that my name is Sophie and I couldn't tell them, correct them. They talked with me, although I couldn't say a thing. Then they often got sad and began to cry. Most of them said sooner or later that they're sorry. They begged me to forgive and comfort them. So that in the end, like grandma used to, I stroke their cheeks comfortingly and they become the tears of the rain and thus find their solace.
That the others are gone and I am lonely and alone again makes me cry, but I can't redeem myself. No matter how often I stroke my cheek to turn into tears myself. It just doesn't work and so I cry myself to sleep with my face buried in my hand every time.
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I have forgotten may things. I forgot if I had a farther. If I had friends apart from the rain. How my room looked. I know I had a mother, but I don't know how she looked anymore. But I will never forget my grandma. I wish that I could see her one more time, play with her in the rain. I wished she would be by my side, caress me and comfort me like I had to comfort so may before. Maybe then the rain would stop to weep. If my grandma has to cry because of me?
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Oh. Someone's coming. Also in yellow, like me, is that a sign? If the funny astronaut is a new friend?