A raining night.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

A Junker explores a ruin at night, and what he encounters surprises him.

Raining night.


Putting on the straw raincoat, backpack dangling at his side, the boy started to walk. It was drizzling, not really cold but a breeze was enough to send chill to one’s spine, plus the darkness of a moonless night and thin threads of light that barely illuminated anything. The boy felt overwhelmed with a strange sense of horror, even though this was not the first time he ever walked in such night.


With the intention to get ahead of other Junkers, his destination was the remains of a street once one of the most prosperous place in the area. Some big trees people planted at the entrance had fallen, blocked the path. Even with his slim body, he had quite some difficulty climbing over the logs. He finally made it to the main street.


“Hope I can find something usable here.” – the boy thought.


Alcohol, or even cigarette could be a treasure to a Junker. They can be exchanged for food or water. As The Rain kept going on and on and on, water was contaminated gradually, and food was hard to grow. In this abnormal rain, keeping yourself stocked up was important. With hopes held high, the boy started walking on the path, now covered with moss and dirt.


When he looked up, his eyes were encountered with a dumbstruck awe. Before him were three or fours houses lined up along the street. Their roofs were blown away, perhaps by a bomb, some big black stains could still be seen on the wall. At one house, balconies still stood, trees put on display now laid dead on the handrail. The other one opposite to it on the other side had a big hole in the net over the garden, remain of it hanging helplessly onto a pole. Debris from broken wall heaped up little mountains here and there. They may contain something valuable, but the boy did not bother to examine them. Neither laziness nor him having no appropriate tools was holding him back, it was the scenery in front of him that struck him speechless. The Rain kept drizzling, water droplets glittered in the blurred yellow, flickering light from some street lamp left. The boy heard that electricity may still worked somewhere, perhaps this was one of the last places that might have held back a little energy. The lamp pole was so rusty it could break at anytime, using its very last piece of strength to keep the bulb in place. Contained in a cone shaped cover, the bulb buzzed a strange noise, sparkled as if it was burning itself to shine drops of water flying by. The dim light could not reach out to its other brothers, left houses built at the farther of the street stood in solemn silence, like an old man waiting for the last strike. The whole street was in the act of dying, yet still expressed a bizarre beauty after destruction.


Rooted there dumbfounded, the boy did not notice until the rain soaked to the last layer of his raincoat. He started to move again, his eyes, still, once in a while, darted at the endless darkness of The Rain.


Submitted: February 24, 2018

© Copyright 2022 KDavid. All rights reserved.

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Sat, February 24th, 2018 1:21pm

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