Ellada Kralli 

    The rainstorm came down again over the melancholic paths of people. Only a few were outdoors strolling to forget their past or maybe to through away their aching thoughts. Their hearts seeking a salvation that nothing in the world but the rain could grant. So she was doing as well, watching the rain on the window, staring those people vanishing under the street lanterns, like shadows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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  A couple of tears slipped on her face like the raindrops were slipping softly on the glass. Nostalgia for her childhood, the innocence, when her only questioning was unconcern and playing. Oblivion for the star which like unique jewels hover through time to cover the invisible skin of young girls.

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  She thought of going for a walk alone, out in the rain, in a quest for her own salvation. Her home seemed so frozen as she closed back the door, that she believed she was living in a place where only the dead reside. She decided not to carry an umbrella. She always disliked umbrellas anyway. She enjoyed the sensation of the rain touching her like a presence.

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  The street looked deserted except those bitter souls sounding from the deep of the night as the rain kept falling. Her stroll was quite but dreary. Dreams deceived for some words of a failed love but there was still hope in her heart.

 She stood soaking under an almost crumbling house’s pavilion, feeling that even remnants had life once, hopes, dreams, but eventually, the time of death comes for all and everything slowly vanishes from the daylight. Her gaze was nailed in a pothole, filled with water and her dark reflection staring her back, lost somewhere else. Suddenly a voice: “Did you hear the rain’s song?”

 

 - “Hello?”

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  It was like a shadow and vanished again. Maybe she imagined that but she didn’t really care. However she thought she heard music coming out from that house. She indecisively entered through a collapsed window. The roof had fallen down here and there and the floor was wet. Only concrete and wreckage. Everything had been taken away by the dead, she thought, wandering in there for a while. Trying to trace the melody, behind a pile of bricks, she found a music box. It looked like an antique. It was made of wood with beautiful sculptures of flowers and sweet little angels. She turned a key on its bottom side, tuning it and as she opened it, a lighthouse emerged, lighting the dark. Its harmonic melody was not depressive as the sound of the rain but enchanting. She stayed there, listening for hours and there… her heart started to beat again.

 

 

 

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