Becomes One Hundred Stories #30: Works in the Rain

This is a piece of short fiction in the style and universe of three of my novels: Becomes the Happy Man, Becomes God’s Silent Prophet, and Becomes the Meaning Blossom.

Works in the Rain

The rain fell. The rain fell on the man. The rain fell on the man while he worked. While he worked in the field. The field beside the river. The field beside the river that was dry in the summertime. Dry except for when it rained in the summertime. In the summertime while the man worked hard, and the rain fell on the man.

The man could work in any weather. The man could work in any weather, but his favorite weather to work in was sunshine. Sunshine in the summertime. The man could work in any weather, and he could work in the rain. He could work in the rain in any season, but his favorite season to work in the rain was summertime.

The man could work in the rain in the summertime almost as well as he could work in the sunshine in the summertime.

The man worked in the rain in the summertime in the field by the river, and he smelled the smells of fresh rainfall on dry, dusty ground. On dry, cracked leaves. He could hear the rain plop on the slow-moving summer river that moved a little faster after a little summer rain. He could feel the rain fall on his tanned, sweating skin.

The man inhaled the springness of summer.

The man put down his tools and went to the bank of the river. He could work in the summer rain, but he could also take a break from his work in the summer rain. The man took a break from his work, and he went to the bank of the river.

The man swam across the river. He swam across the river and he lay down on the other side. He lay down and looked into the cloudy sky and felt the rain cleanse him.

The man woke up.

The man woke up from his rain-soaked sleep. The man woke up and looked into the deep, blue, cloudless sky. The man felt the warmth of the summer sun.

The sun had only partially dried the man’s clothes.

The man stood and felt his soggy clothes cling to his body.

The man removed his shirt. He removed his shirt and laid it out on a rock by the river to dry in the sun.

The man looked across the river to the field where he worked in the summertime. The man admired his work, and he knew he would finish his work by the end of summer. The man was glad it was not yet the end of summer.

The man looked far down the river to the bridge. The bridge looked small from that distance. The man worked much further up the river that summer than usual. The man looked at the faraway bridge and he could see people crossing the bridge. The man could see people crossing the bridge even though he was much further away from the bridge than usual. The man did not wonder why the people crossed the bridge.

The man looked up the river. He looked up the river and saw nothing of any particular interest.

The man went into the forest along the river. The man went into the forest, and he found a bunch of summer berries. The man ate a handful of the berries. They were almost ripe.

The rain had dampened the mosses of the forest and the mulching leaves, and he could smell the powerful forces of the mouldering forest floor at work.

The man knew his day was coming.

The man knew his day was coming, so he left the forest and found his shirt and put it on. He swam across the river and returned to work. The man returned to work in his river-wet clothes, and he imagined his clothes were wet from the earlier rain. The man worked in his wet clothes until the sun and the man’s effort dried his clothes.

The man forgot that his day was coming. The man knew his day was coming—he always knew his day was coming—but when he was busy, he did not think about his day coming. He just worked. He worked and he got things done. He knew his day would come whether he worked or not, so he worked to get things done before his day came. And he worked to not think about his day coming. Thinking about his day coming interfered with getting things done.

The man got things done.

The man got things done in the sunshine, and he thought about the rain and he wondered if the rain would fall again that summer. The man could still feel and smell the rain that fell in the summertime while he worked. He knew his day was coming, but he did not think about it. He got things done instead.

When the man got things done for that day, he left the place where he worked. He went through the forest to the place where he lived. The man enjoyed his walk through the forest. He smelled the mouldering ground in the forest, but he did not think about his day coming. The man just walked through the forest.

The man walked through the forest and found the place where he lived. The man entered the place where he lived. The man entered the place where he lived, and he prepared an evening meal.

While the man prepared his evening meal, the rain began to fall again.

The man could hear the rain falling on the roof of the place where he lived. He could hear the rain falling off the roof of the place where he lived.

The man prepared his evening meal and he ate his evening meal. The man ate his evening meal and looked outside at the rain while he ate.

The man did not think about anything while he ate. He particularly did not think about his day coming while he ate. He knew his day would come—he always knew it—but he did not think about it while he ate.

When the man finished eating, he went out into the rain, and he let the rain cleanse him. He needed much cleansing that day. It would be the last rain of the long summer, although the man did not know that yet.

When darkness fell, the man prepared to sleep. The man went to the cleaning place, and he cleaned himself. The man cleaned himself and went to the place where he slept.

The man lay in the place where he slept, but before he slept, he spent a long time listening to the rain falling on the roof and off the roof of the place where he lived. The man listened to the rain and wondered if it would be the last rain of the long summer. It was, but he did not know it yet. And the man hoped the long summer would be long. He hoped the summer would be long enough for him to get many things done.

The man hoped he would get many things done before his day would come. And he would. The summer would be long, and he had many summers remaining to get things done before his day would come.

The man fell asleep.

To read more stories in the series, see the Becomes One Hundred Stories page.

Advertisements

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s