[Finals] Surrealism and Rain
Cool raindrops trailed down the willowy figure of a tan, outstretched hand, sending shivers down to its owner. The drips came slowly; each felt surreal, like a moment frozen in time, broken only by the next. The woman standing there experienced a touch of wonder with each tender drop; an ordinary rain was, even after all the astounding things she had seen, a new experience.
Lluvia—rain.
It’s a word we only have because of the lands where our language has its roots. There is no rain in Rubato--our rivers draw water from the humid north. Rain…seems to have this strange kind of ability to echo your thoughts back to you.
The lone, pensive figure drew her hand back, and resumed making her way through the dreary downpour, her cloak hanging about her in wet, drooping folds as she trudged down the streets. The fog rose up in sheets off the dun-colored stones to meet her, deafening the sounds of her footsteps, and rolling about to enshroud everything in coils of wispy, vaporous gray; not a person could be seen for meters through the dense, swirling mist. For a time, there was only her, and the subtle sense of apprehension that seemed to blanket the town.
As she continued on, a blurred yellow sphere drew her dark eyes from the street; a diffused bit of radiance, hinting at signs of life. Under it, the youthful faces of children beamed, resolved by the streetlamp’s glow. She came to pass by them, lifting her face to nod in greeting should one of them meet her eyes, but was given a far different reaction to the casual, passing interest she had expected; the closest of them, a little boy not a day older than nine with light, sad eyes and a small mouth suddenly dropped the ball he was holding, and recoiled back in unknown agitation.
The toy came to a hard stop on the stones, so weighted down by the water coating it that it couldn’t even spring back up an inch from the ground. Unsure of what to make of the child’s reaction, Cadenza wordlessly knelt down to pick the ball back up from the puddle it laid so despondently in. The boy continued to stare at her with a sort of silent horror.
Cadenza put on her kindest smile, and in the gentlest voice she could manage, she held the ball out to the boy and said, “Ah, here…you probably should go back inside to play until it’s dry again, because it doesn’t look like your ball is going to be much fun in this weather.”
The boy’s thin, pink little bottom lip quivered, and it was only after several silent moments that he reached two cold, shaking hands out to take the ball from the woman’s grasp. His two friends had already stopped playing and were watching quietly at this point; the same terror could be read on their cherubic little faces as that of their friend.
The gypsy rose; she couldn’t recall ever feeling this self-conscious before. She considered her own appearance—and instantly, remembered the fact that she carried a dagger and bow with her. Normal in some places—but not in others. Especially not around kids.
“Erm…are you afraid of my weapons?” she asked the boy she had returned the ball to, “I know they might seem scary, but I won’t hurt you—I promise.”
This did nothing to pacify the boy—if anything, it only seemed to increase the horror read on his face. Discouraged, Cadenza turned away from the group of children to continue her walk. I don’t know why I bothered with that stupid little—
--her thoughts, however, were cut short by an unexpected reply from the boy. “Don’t go,” he said. His voice wasn’t afraid any longer—it was pleading.
The gypsy whirled back around to see the child reaching for the sleeve of her cloak. “What do you mean ‘don’t go’?”
“Don’t…”
“Yeah—I heard that. But I’m going to need a little bit more in the way of reasons. Just a second ago you were trembling at the sight of me—and now you’re begging me not to leave. What’s going on?”
The boy exchanged glances with his two friends; hesitant, sad little glances. Something about the way they were treating her—how they acted like a doctor breaking bad news—made Cadenza more impatient than ever.
“What is it!?”
“We saw something!” the boy blurted out.
“Saw what?”
“We saw you—you lying in a pool of your own blood, taking your last few breaths in life. We saw you—dying.”
A momentary flicker of shock and agitation ran across Cadenza’s face—merely a flicker—before she resumed her outwardly composed, indifferent look. A touch of skepticism, or maybe denial, colored her features.
“Very funny. How, exactly, did three kids like you see something like that? I haven’t sensed any magic around here.”
“It’s not magic,” the boy explained, “You’ve happened to wander into a town full of psychics. We can see the future—and we can read your thoughts by predicting what you’ll think next. And what we’ve told you…we were struck by the vision of it from the moment we saw you.
“You’ll be in danger, Miss Madrigal, unless you stop now and get off the streets.”
Cadenza started to reply—but her answer disappeared in the surprise of her name being spoken before she gave it. “I was…just about to mention my name. Thinking of the very sentence it was going to be in, actually. I…”
The boy shot her a grave, almost apologetic look. “We’ve…never really been wrong, Miss. Thank you for my ball, and…be careful.”
With those words, the little band of children drifted away into the foggy streets and the pouring rain. The gypsy was left again with that surreal feeling; and it was in deep thought that she resumed her trip through the town. Could those kids be playing a joke? It’s pretty likely. Just…that look on the boy’s face. That couldn’t have been anything but real fear.
Well...I guess if this truly is a town of psychics, then someone’s bound to give me another opinion on the future.
Last edited by Altamira; 11-10-2007 at 01:25 PM..