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Start or end your story with someone standing in the rain.

Posted in Dramatic on Jan 31, 2025

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✍️ 93 stories

WHEN IT RAINS

Submitted to Contest #288

The rain started as a whisper - soft droplets against the pavement, gentle tapping on windowpanes. It slid down the marble columns of the Lancaster estate, tracing thin veins of water over the stone as if the house itself were bleeding. The air was thick with petrichor, the earthy scent of damp soil mixing with the ghostly perfume of jasmine from the overgrown trellis near the entrance. The sound of the rain was a symphony; each drops a note in a haunting melody.Samuel Lancaster stood in the doorway, the dim light from the crystal chandelier...

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Washed away

Submitted to Contest #288

"Get out now! I'm telling you! Either you open that damned door, or I will knock it down!"He was completely soaked. The rain had not stopped for days, and no one was on the streets but him, competing with the deafening noise of the droplets hitting the roofs and windows. His shouting and screaming, though, was nothing like the water's roar. People had been complaining for months about the lack of rain and the cuts in the water supply, but after a whole week of nothing but water around us, no one spoke about that anymore. The river level had ...

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AFTER THE STORM

Submitted to Contest #288

The conference had been a resounding success for everyone… everyone but me. I should’ve listened to that little voice inside that questioned why I was being given a beautiful suite to myself for the weekend.“But I’ve always had to share on these conference weekends,” I said to Yvette, the State manager. “Is Stella getting her own suite too?” Stella was the regional manager for the southern part of the state while I handled the North.“No,” Yvette replied with a slight quaver in her voice. “She and I will share my suite this time. We still hav...

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The Weight of One Choice

Submitted to Contest #288

The neon glow of the bar sign flickered, casting a dull red hue onto the rain-slicked pavement. The rain pounded relentlessly, forming puddles that rippled with each drop. A man slouched over the bar, swirling the last of his whiskey in a glass. His name was James, and his world had unraveled in the past six months. The divorce papers still sat on his kitchen table, unopened for days. His ex-wife had taken everything that mattered: the house, the dog, even their friends had chosen sides. He was alone. "One more," he slurred, tapping the glas...

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Pallets

Submitted to Contest #288

The sky, the colour of pewter, had been spitting a drizzling rain for a few minutes. “Ah shit. Just my luck.” She pulled the collar of her denim jacket to her neck and wiped her eyes on her cuffs as the lights started to streak. A thousand identical grey cars streamed past. Streetlights and car headlights washing into a tie-dye blur. Blinking, she held out an arm, raised a thumb. The slipstreams of passing trucks repeatedly sucked her to join them, their wheels whistling past on the damp oily tarmac. She planted her trainers against the blas...

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I Love You GG

Submitted to Contest #288

The hardest goodbye is the goodbye you don’t get to say. The one that lingers with you forever.The funeral home was cloaked in a heavy stillness, broken only by the distant hum of an old organ. Soft whispers and muffled sobs floated through the dimly lit room, weaving into the scent of lilies, wax, and the aged wood of the pews. At the front of the room, Grandma lay in her casket, surrounded by bouquets and framed photographs that chronicled a life filled with love and quiet resilience. Her hands, now cold and still, clutched a rosary, the s...

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Trinity, 1945

Submitted to Contest #288

“Words can destroy, warp time and space in ways far greater than they were intended.” She wheezed, sucking in air with shallow breaths as she stared out the window. Arms, thin and frail, pulled the blanket up tight against her chest.“Let me help you.” Father Douglas said, adjusting the blanket to cover the woman. The storm outside rumbled, threatening to break through the glass into the small room.  “Those words, back at Carmadean’s Dance Camp, deep in the desert near Ruidoso, New Mexico in the summer of ‘45, they changed the ...

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Recovery

Submitted to Contest #288

Content warning: references to sexual themes'Blood spurted across the white laboratory floor as the crocodile ripped Geoff's calf muscle from his leg.'Wow, what a book there is only so much gore I can take in one sitting. I can read it again when I am brain dead, clinically bored in work. It is not a book I can curl up on the sofa with.I will get up, do a little bit of housework, not loads, obviously, I am sick after all, and then pick another book, a bit of chick lit should do the trick. I have yellow jaundice so on enforced leave from wor...

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Soaked

Submitted to Contest #288

Wearing his best suit, Bentley stood under Francine’s second story balcony. He hoped she would accept his apology. It began to rain. Though he had no umbrella, he didn’t care. Starting as a heavy mist, the drizzle soon became a steady shower. ‘Maybe it’ll help,’ he thought.If he’d blown it with Francine, nothing else mattered to him. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. ‘Stomped on her heart… for pride…? Ego…? Nothing so elevated…’ He didn’t know what to call it. He missed her.Bentley thought back to their argument a week ago. Francine ...

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Touching The Hem Of Hope

Submitted to Contest #288

The tepid rain soaked my filthy clothes but didn’t wash me clean. Nothing would ever wash away the stain on my life. So I hid as best I could as the searing sun dried off my clothes but left the damp stain between my legs.I thought about better days with clean robes and acceptance in the community as hopeless tears flowed down my cheeks. How could God abandon me like this? I wanted to scream at him so he could feel the wrath of all my anger and bitterness but drawing attention to myself would have meant immediate expulsion from the vill...

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Where the Rain Falls

Submitted to Contest #288

Where the Rain Falls The rain had not started yet.   Damian stood beneath the overhang outside the café, hands deep in his coat pockets, watching through the window as Lila played. Her violin sang in quiet conversation with the piano—another musician, someone unfamiliar, fingers dancing over the keys as if they had always belonged there.   The warmth inside contrasted sharply with the chill clinging to his skin. Inside, everything was golden, the café alive with murmurs, laughter, and the soft clatter of ceramic cups agai...

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Learning to breathe again

Submitted to Contest #288

The solitary figure had been leaning on the wall across the road for at least an hour, with no company except for the lone jackdaw that hopped from one door to the next. Stella peered anxiously around the corner of her living room window, glad of the voile curtain that afforded her a little privacy. The figure’s head bent downwards against the deluge of rain that had set in earlier that afternoon, their face hidden beneath the tent-like hood of a yellow mackintosh. Their hands were stuffed into deep pockets, feet in long rubbe...

21 likes 16 comments 16
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The Following

Submitted to Contest #288

You’re probably wondering why I’m following you.That is, if you’ve even caught on. I suspect you have. But, then again, wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t. You always did have a knack for only focusing on what’s in front of you, never caring what or who you destroyed in the process.Ultimately, that’s the reason I chose to follow you.I’ve been following you since that day. You’ve probably long forgotten it. Chalked it up as a necessary measure. A roadblock to get you to where you are now. But for me, that day has persistently haunted my mind...

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Panama Rain

Submitted to Contest #288

A light rain falls at my home in Eugene, Oregon, but it’s supposed to rain a lot here. There is a breeze blowing in from the north that’s bringing a chill reminiscent of when I lived in Alaska. As the day turns darker and gloomier, I am reminded of the Panama Rain. Now that was the type of rain that seemed it should have an old man with a boat full of animals. I must warn you; this is a war story I have pulled out of my footlocker as the rain continues to fall.  “We need someone to go down to Det 4 to support the U2.” Master Serge...

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East of Hope

Submitted to Contest #288

                                                June 14, 1985“He still there?” Florence finished loading her favorite revolver.“Yep. Just standin’ there, staring at the house.” Millie closed the curtains and stepped out onto the porch. The rain wasn’t heavy, but it was substantial enough to make her questi...

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