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She stood under the dark sky that was threatening to break down, rather harshly. Thunder clapped over and over and the light touched the sky for a split second before it receded into the rumbling expanse of the dark. A splendid smell floated in the suffocating surrounding and air lurked thick and musky, as it rustled through the trees. Thunder split the sky again and droplets pelted the earth, one after the other, leaving dark spots where they hit.
The cold rain hit her hard, bringing her back; the sensation as if the raindrops had bruised her skin. For several moments she perceived the dark spots left by rain as blood spots. She shook her head against the vision of a cloudy red sky imprinted on her mind and looked up at the dark misty one, throwing rain in her face. The distinct smell of rain on dry soil rose all around her and she pinched her nose, trying to relieve her mind of the ghastly images she was so intent on replacing the reality with.
Her bloodshot eyes looked around; everything seemed so alive after the much awaited rain; even the grass that had brown patches amongst the green seemed brighter. Hope. perhaps, it didn't just reside in human hearts but in all surroundings. Maybe, its not just a feeling, but a sense born within nature. Hope, that we tread on, that gets rotten and bruised, yet it lives. Its not an epiphany, just reality, peeking at us every once in a while. Like the sun that decides to breakthrough the sky and illuminate so brilliantly even when its just about to set.
She looks about herself, at everything shining even with that tinge of gloominess that comes with rain and the helplessness within our perception, and turns towards the door that leads inside. Sometimes hope does not douse the fire that burns on inside, it doesn't illuminate like the sun, it burns like it.
-Momina.
