Future

Rain, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt it. The sun is so hot in the sky that all of the clouds are afraid of it. I am not afraid of something that brings life to us, but that’s not all, is it. The rain brings life to us, and without it, we will die. Without it now, it will bring poor fortune to us. It is what you call a drought, but in this time, it is now called something else. It’s called a Wednesday, perfectly normal in our everyday lives.

Yet it’s not normal, of course it’s not normal. Day by day, it seems as if I’m the only person who waits for the rain, sitting on my balcony, leaning over the edge, to my caretaker’s displeasure. She says that I should be more ladylike, and me endangering myself isn’t a good way to do so. I still do it; I still swing my legs over the railing that encloses the small patch of concrete that hangs out on a side of my house, and take a seat on the other side. I can see everything from here, to the setting and the rising of the sun, to the birds that migrate every autumn to the South.

A bird must have so much freedom. I used to think that if I could fly, I could just take myself and go and find rain myself. I heard that the rainforests still occasionally have periods of rainfall, but even they are beginning to dry up. I wonder what they will be if it no longer rains, just forests? How disappointing. I take another look up to the sky, and I catch my eye on a cloud hanging over the mountains to the west of us.

Clouds look so nice; it’s such a wonder as to how they are able to produce rain so easily. Or, it used to be easy, but it’s like they’ve begun to become forgetful as to how to do their only job. What would clouds be if they wouldn’t rain anymore, just air? It’s a very odd thought, for I don’t think they would be able to live anymore if their purpose were to be taken away from them.

That doesn’t affect us through. Even though we have no purpose, we keep on living until we die. It’s the natural cycle, it really is, and yet I feel as if some part of it has gone far from being natural. Clara, my caretaker, tells me that they are trying to elongate our life. It’s like they’re playing god, such a foolish move, in all honesty. They think that they can just change us, but they can’t, because no matter what, we will pass along one day.

Although it makes me shudder at the thought that maybe they could actually do what they say they can do. To live forever, I really wonder how well that would go. I shake my head a bit, and focus back on the topic of rain. Rain is a mysterious thing, it grants us water, and with that, life. And, yet it can just stop so suddenly, without warning, and leave us all in wanting.

I catch a glimpse at the sun travelling over the mountainside, and I swing my legs back over the railing. It should be dinnertime soon, and Clara doesn’t appreciate my tardiness too much. After all, she is here on her own terms, and without her, what would I do. Starve, probably. I don’t know how to make my own food, or take care of myself. I’m grateful that she’s here, but sometimes it feels as if she resents it.

It’s been over six years since my parents went missing, or at least around that time. I’m not too keen on keeping track of the days that fly by without my notice. I spend most of my day outside on the balcony, so you would think that I would know that when the sun rises, the next day comes. Of course I know, but I’ve lost count of that fact years ago.
As I sit down at the table, she passes me my plate with today’s meal; mashed potatoes with butter. I’m glad that she’s grown used to my diminishing appetite, and I thank her dearly before picking up my fork. It goes down quickly, and in a few minutes, I find myself back at the balcony. Clara doesn’t ask any questions about what I do up here, but she does stick her head in once in a while to check up on me.

I actually wonder myself as to what I’m doing here, nothing productive, I’m sure. All I do is think, nothing else. I don’t even write it down, something I should get in the habit of doing soon. Maybe it’ll take my mind off of some things, and besides, writing is good for me. My brain is already too full of thoughts, and with this, I can lose some of those thoughts to the paper. Not yet though, I enjoy sitting here, instead of inside my room scribbling.

When the sun fully sets, even I know to head inside. The nights are harsh, and will kill me if I spend too much time with them. When I’m ready to get in the sheets of my bed, I spend some time staring at my ceiling, admiring the notches that I’ve once dug through, trying to find the end. I did reach the end, of course. It was a wooden beam that didn’t allow me to go any further, and so I gave up. Clara found me a few hours later, and she gave me a long scolding. Now I know that I shouldn’t have done it, it gave my room a sort of prison-y feel. I really don’t like myself for doing that now, and if I could, I would go back in time and stop myself.

Of course that’s impossible. Or maybe it’s not; perhaps those scientists will put their minds to better use, and instead of trying to find an elixir of life, build a time machine. I would pay big money for a time machine, and I’m sure that I’m not the only one. I lied, if I had a time machine, I wouldn’t go back to the time where I made the holes in the ceiling. No, I would go back to the day when I woke up and the house was empty and eerily silent. That day, I knew something was wrong, even before I made the short trip down the stairs and into the kitchen. There was no breakfast on the table that day, and the television wasn’t on. But it was when I saw that the light to the basement was on, that I knew that something had happened.

Throughout my whole life, my mother would tell me to never go into the basement, and I did what she said. It was too dark and creepy for me to have fun inside anyway. And, yet that one day, my curiousness was too much to handle. In the night I got up and sneaked away to the downstairs. If I remember correctly, that night was the night before that day. Coincidence? It wasn’t. As I think about it I feel my eyes droop, and soon enough I fall into my dreamless sleep.

When I wake, the sun is already high in the sky. It's a usual thing with me, always sleeping until at least noon. You would think that I would be hungry, but nope, even at dinner, it hardly even mattered. I push off the covers gently, and reach out to my balcony again, feeling the slight breeze that meant that I had forgotten to close the sugar pane like glass doors. Suddenly I felt cold, how odd. On normal days, the sun would make me feel anything but cold. That’s when I see it. My room is damp; rain! It’s rain, right!?

I fling the covers off, and run over to the balcony, missing the doors completely and flying out to the ledge. It’s dry, all of the land below me is dry. There was no rain. I take a look behind my shoulder, and I’m confused. My room is still in its damp state, but the world around me isn’t. I step back, and find my body to the glass. I feel the coolness, and then fall backwards.
My eyes fly open. A dream. I can already feel my breath running quick, and I have to steady myself by gripping onto the sides of the wooden frame. It wasn't the fact that there was rain in my dreams that caught me so off guard, but in fact, it was because I have never remembered a dream before. It's a sensation that I can't describe, but if I could put a word to it, it would have to be strange. My head is dizzy, and my eyesight comes out unclean, but I try my best to focus them on the outside. It's the same, dry and without rain, but what did I expect, it wasn't as if just dreaming about it once would make it happen.

A soft laugh escapes from my throat, and once again, I'm surprised. I'm not usually one to laugh, and even now, there isn't much to laugh about. I shrug once, well if there isn't any rain, then it should be okay to go outside. Making my way to the balcony, I can feel a slight skip to my step, and when I reach the ledge, I swing my legs over it again. It's only been a few hours, but with that dream, it feels as if I haven't taken this seat in a long time.

I make myself comfortable, and if it was a normal day, I would just be okay with this position, but it's a bit different this time. This time, I've allowed myself to scoot out a bit further. It feels more dangerous than usual, just what I need right now. Before I know it, my feet hit some sort of barrier, making me unable to travel farther from the ledge. It's kind of strange, it feels as if there's a sheet of glass in front of me, but I'm unable to see it. I reach my hand out gingerly, and can feel it immediately.

I'm pretty sure that this wasn't here yesterday, but then again, I've never once tried to reach for the air, so it wouldn't be that surprising if I was oblivious to it. I reach out the other hand, and feel it come to a stop at the cool material. At first, I think about jumping at it, but then I realize that I have no idea what's behind it. It could be anything, the sky, the ground, another house, anything, and I wouldn't have any knowledge of it.

That doesn't stop me however, and with my right hand, I swing my fist at it. When it first connects, I don't feel anything, and it dawns on me that I somehow miss it. Just as I try to swing at it again, it cracks, and I tip backwards and fall to the floor. I was wrong, it didn't miss, and I'm simply overjoyed at the fact that it broke. As I stand and brush myself off, I try to peer through the small crack.

I can't see anything though, so I swing at it again, and this time it completely shatters. What's behind it is surprising to me. It isn't the sky, or the ground, or anything I thought it would be. Instead, it's simply nothing, just a white light. I sigh, but even though, I still climb back onto the ledge and try to force myself into it. Force might be a harsh word, since I fully fall as I get close. At first, the air is sparse and I can feel my lungs contract. It evens up after a bit, so I allow myself to close my eyes and relax.

In the back of my mind, I can hear a small beeping noise fade. That's when the first drop falls.