Why Do People Hate the Rain?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is slightly more serious than I am used to writing... Basically a compilation of all my rants about freedom, chaos, and how human beings should really learn to stop being such control freaks.

Submitted: December 14, 2008

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Submitted: December 14, 2008

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Her hair whipped around her face as she listened to the rain pour. The wind whistled through her ears; the puddles splattered around her feet. The clouds blanketed the sun, leaving a gray light to cover the city.

Another boy would’ve passed by her, with his head bent down to avoid the bombarding rain, if she didn’t utter the compelling words, “Why do people hate the rain?”

The boy stopped in his steps, slowly walking towards her. “What?” he shouted over the heavy rain.

“Why do people hate the rain?” she wondered, louder this time. She turned to the boy and stared at him with her big, brown eyes. “It’s just water.”

“Cold water,” the boy muttered.

“Snow is frozen water but people love it,” she answered. She distantly asked, “Why is rain different?”

“Because it gets you soaked,” the boy murmured as he felt the water seep through his clothes.

“Showers do too, as does swimming. But people love those, too.” She stared into the distance, where clouds were gathering. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“People only hate rain because it is unpredictable.”

“Really?” the boy asked with a skeptical look.

The girl turned to him. “Really. People are too used to controlling their days. Their lives have been made too convenient for them. They are too used to their power and order that when something unpredictable comes along, it reminds them.”

“Reminds them of what?”

“That they are only human. That no matter what they do, there will always be something a little out of their reach. Something they cannot figure out. Something that they could not do.” She pulled her hand out of her pocket, to feel the raindrops fall. “Sometimes we forget.”

The rain stopped suddenly, not waiting to gradually form a drizzle. It just… was done.

She stared at her wet hand thoughtfully. “Even the smartest person in the world could not have predicted that.”

The boy scratched his head, letting her words settle. “But isn’t snow just as unpredictable as rain?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you like it when it snows or when you can go outside to play with it?”

He had no answer.

She continued, “People like control. But we have to remember… Remember that at the end of the day, Mother Nature is the ultimate ruler, and she chooses not control, but chaos. Disorder. That is our world.”

A clap of thunder was heard as a huge downpour started again.

“Until we forget, we cannot remember,” she whispered.


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