Inked Skin

Hopeful

Rain.

It was something the small, quaint town received from time to time in all seasons. It could be a simple drizzle, merely a variable in a timed schedule or a complete downpour, standing in the way of whole equation of events. Either way, they needed it. The town needed rain as much as shoes had to have their laces. It was like the way sky needed its friend the clouds or a captain needs its first mate. Why does a town yearn the subtle, yet sometimes harsh action of falling rain? It's not really the town that needs it, but the people, the humans who find themselves there every day or the ones who master the art of simply passing by.

It was relaxing, sending the spirit of free and easy from the pitter-patter of droplets against windowpanes.

Or it can bring the feelings of being provoked, sulky, vulnerable, and ashamed.

The soft shower speckling down from the serene sky invited over an individual to hither towards the window, wrapped in a few various layers of warmth, a light plain housecoat, or blanket or two, that fought against the coolness leaking in from the outside. Its sincere sprinkle was enough to let the person allow it to slip through the keyhole that accessed his or her own special memories. It browsed and looked through the file cabinet on the other side of that keyhole, selecting the ones that brought back the times long ago and could secure that someone into the sweet state of mind.

Opposing the calm rainfall was the chaotic lashing of a full-on thunderstorm. One of the main characters, hidden under his duvet as well as other blankets that had once been kicked off, tried to catch the feeling of safeness that had escaped after the first boom of thunder. The person attempted to keep it out. The dark essence that the downpour had brought on pounded and beat against that door to the recollections one held in their mind, any of the sorts appealing to it. The good memories were too afraid, trembling and cowering back. Only the evil ones were brave enough rebel, to show through. These were the ones the person dared not to remember or release the feelings trapped under the memory. Being stressed, bitter, and frustrated dropped so suddenly upon the human that it was just too much to handle. So the person cringed, struggled to fight back against the dominating memories, and shrink back themself, defeated at last against the reflections they failed to cope with.

The price, one of many cons of having feelings: acting upon them.

Rain was one of the helpers. Whether it was to just clear peoples' minds to just calm thoughts, put them at ease, or to bring out the thoughts they kept from themselves, forcing them to even just think about them for a moment or so.

So yes, in the end it was more the humans who needed the rain.

---

Inside Louis's head was a thrashing thunderstorm.

To any other eye, he looked like an innocent young man who had gotten beaten by the rain on his way home.

He ran across the wet pavement, just as slick as the sweat building on his palms. Rain fell fast from the clouds above, hammering down onto him, showing no sign of stopping soon. Feathery fringe stuck in the most undesirable places to his forehead, the tips seeming to sting his flushed skin. Aching muscles from the strain of pounding against the hard cement soon turned to be tiring him out, bit by bit, slowly and steadily with each quick step. His blurred vision irked him because of his lack of knowledge.

'Where the hell am I at?'

Most importantly, his mind was set into a frenzy.

The storm outside that he was dashing through mimicked itself with the one passing through his head. Louis was clearly shook up with erratic thoughts racing through the storm clouds holding clusters of other ideas, weaving their way through the chaos of the constant falling of droplets of thoughts. Overall, inside and out, Louis was stuck in one cacophonous mess of loud thunder rumbles and slurred words that screamed in his head.