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Description
I stood outside on the wooden veranda, allowing the cold raindrops to hit my face in a shockingly refreshing spray. My hands roamed caressingly over the wooden support beam against which my body sagged. In the distance, I could hear the thunder rumbling ominously. It seemed strange to me that something could sound so calming and normal when heard from a distance, yet invoke such fear when crashing over my own head. I watched in awed silence as the long grass bent beneath the wind that was still blowing, as the exhausted -at least to me they seemed so- raindrops were buffeted here and there. I blinked when some of the more sporadic droplets were flown hard enough to sting against my cheeks, which I could already feel numbing with the chill in the air. My restless hand found a splinter and worried it back and forth, back and forth. Somewhere down the gravel road that extended before me, I heard a sound that almost resembled the thunder overhead, but more artificial. It was the sound of an engine. Maybe, I thought to myself, someone on the main road. Please be someone on the main road.
My thoughts were jerked back from the road to my current embodiment by the smallest prick of pain. I looked at my hand in mild disbelief as a small drop of blood squeezed past the splinter now solidly lodged in my finger. The pain was brief, and soon remedied. I plucked the mischief-maker from the pink infused pad of my finger and dropped it past the steps before which I stood, watching as it disappeared into the jungle of grass and stone. As I leaned over my injury, a droplet slowly, ever so slowly, trailed down my face and fell -in a time that seemed to take eternities- directly onto the wounded party. I watched silently as the rainwater mixed with the blood, slowly draining off one side of my finger to hit the floor beneath me, leaving behind nothing but a small hole and a remembrance of pain. That was how my life felt these days, I thought. There was nothing left but a gaping hole and a vague memory of more. Salty tears fell from my eyes, mixing beyond separation with the beads from above. I stood weeping in the rain, listening to the retreating thunder, and rubbing the now unremarkable spot of my recent pain with my thumb while, in the distance, a vehicle began creeping into sight up the long, winding drive.

Description
I stood outside on the wooden veranda, allowing the cold raindrops to hit my face in a shockingly refreshing spray. My hands roamed caressingly over the wooden support beam against which my body sagged. In the distance, I could hear the thunder rumbling ominously. It seemed strange to me that something could sound so calming and normal when heard from a distance, yet invoke such fear when crashing over my own head. I watched in awed silence as the long grass bent beneath the wind that was still blowing, as the exhausted -at least to me they seemed so- raindrops were buffeted here and there. I blinked when some of the more sporadic droplets were flown hard enough to sting against my cheeks, which I could already feel numbing with the chill in the air. My restless hand found a splinter and worried it back and forth, back and forth. Somewhere down the gravel road that extended before me, I heard a sound that almost resembled the thunder overhead, but more artificial. It was the sound of an engine. Maybe, I thought to myself, someone on the main road. Please be someone on the main road.
My thoughts were jerked back from the road to my current embodiment by the smallest prick of pain. I looked at my hand in mild disbelief as a small drop of blood squeezed past the splinter now solidly lodged in my finger. The pain was brief, and soon remedied. I plucked the mischief-maker from the pink infused pad of my finger and dropped it past the steps before which I stood, watching as it disappeared into the jungle of grass and stone. As I leaned over my injury, a droplet slowly, ever so slowly, trailed down my face and fell -in a time that seemed to take eternities- directly onto the wounded party. I watched silently as the rainwater mixed with the blood, slowly draining off one side of my finger to hit the floor beneath me, leaving behind nothing but a small hole and a remembrance of pain. That was how my life felt these days, I thought. There was nothing left but a gaping hole and a vague memory of more. Salty tears fell from my eyes, mixing beyond separation with the beads from above. I stood weeping in the rain, listening to the retreating thunder, and rubbing the now unremarkable spot of my recent pain with my thumb while, in the distance, a vehicle began creeping into sight up the long, winding drive.