Running Through the Rain

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 19, 2016

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Submitted: July 19, 2016



Running Through the Rain By Carla Charter

It must have been horrendous, the crime he committed lifetimes ago. He would never know for sure because that lifetime and the lifetimes since sat in his mind like an early spring fog melting away the dirty snow to make the barren earth become exposed once again. In his case though the dirty snow remained covering up indistinguishable shapes, onerous mounds that he never could quite decipher. And so he lived in his own personal hell, each lifetime shrouding around this crime, layering the deed in in dirty snow and heavy fogs.

He never knew when the nightmares or the faces that accompanied them would appear. Only that they would. Demonic possessions waiting to torment him lingered around every corner. With every anxious footstep he knew they were waiting for him again as they always did.

It had been a thousand years and a thousand years more and a hundred different deaths at least he suspected. Though death was never final for him. He died, he was human, that was inevitable, but the next day, he would reappear again lost and wandering, his face staring back at him from the obituary section. Realizing that once again he had been rejected from what lay beyond life and instead sentenced to live life here once again.

He kept to himself in these lives, with no attachments or children. That would just complicate things for the next go-round and he knew from experience there would always be a next go-round. He still moved in his world though, a shadow among the bustle. People, for the most part, not noticing the shadowness among their brightness. He did what he had to do every day, waiting for his tormentors to show up, signaling his transition to his next hell.

This time seem different, he thought, as he quickly walked under gray skies to the corner grocery store. This time he was being allowed to age and yet his tormentors remained silent. Then again maybe aging itself was their latest torment. He quickly got his milk, bread and coffee to keep him awake, waiting for his life to end and his return to begin.

They came in a different form every time. This time he would be ready, this time he would wait them out, stay in this life,refuse to leave. As he pay for the groceries, he notices the rain which been threatening all day had begun.

Then he walked past the glass and looked closer. Each raindrop sliding down the pane had a face. A tortured face frozen in its individual scream, and he knew they had found him once again. He covered his ears and ran although he knew there was no running,, the faces screaming around him, already drenching their way into his pounding heart.

They would find him, they would drag him through his tortured world once again and into his next one. There would be no escape, whatever world he survived in. The acid rain would reach into his soul, punishing him in this life and every other future life that he was damned to live. His past which would forever lead to future steps and so he ran.

© Copyright 2018 Carla Charter. All rights reserved.

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