A daily day in the rain Follow story

jamegerea Jorge Giovani Vallejo López

A brief history about a daily day in a typical Mexican town inspired by the daily life of a town called Santa Clara Ocoyucan and San Pablo del Monte.

Short Story All public. © Atribución-NoComercial-SinDerivadas 4.0 Internacional (CC BY-NC-ND 4.0)

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A daily day in the rain

In a small town so typical and normal, whose name I still like to remember today; a town located on the slopes of a large hill.

On a special day sheltered under the cool mantle of clouds and a strong monsoon rain; under a small and battered roof that clung to some old metal supports refusing to be uprooted by the strong wind that prevailed in that place, a child was sheltered in the entrance of a typical local store; waiting impatiently the moment he gets to his house he can go.

No matter what direction he turned to look, nothing more than a dense curtain of water could be seen; the thunderous sound of the thunder caused by the rays that emerged, flashed and consumed in the clouds, broke that monotonous and harmonious sound of the wind and rain that reigned in that picturesque place.

Except for the sound of a car that occasionally transits the flooded streets of that typical and normal town. The sound of fast, heavy footsteps of someone soaked with a quick walk; he trotted in the rain, vainly evading the puddles formed in all that road, jumping and striding long and hard to avoid getting his shoes wet; well, while avoiding a puddle, inevitably fell into another larger.

Watching, listening and waiting was the only thing that the little boy could do who, because of the rain, did not want to get wet; soon and without noticing where, a stranger will soon accompany him. A person who seeks shelter from the rain until it is the place to reach.

Standing one next to the other and without mediating a single word or look, both observed attentively that rain that fell without giving signs that at some point it would end.

Thunder, more and more impetuous winds and as much water as had never been seen in that place, soon turned the streets into a great volume.

The water took over every street in that town that at that time was a little more unique. An authentic Venice was what that intense rain had turned that place, because soon the sidewalks could not be seen.

Wild and turbulent waters, besides the buildings, were the only thing that could be noticed in the streets; thanks to the experience and the traditional architecture that prevailed in that place, the houses had a step in the entrance that avoided that the enraged waters could enter.

Of course not all the steps were of the right size and the amount of water at that time was too much for what those weak defenses could barely and inevitably avoid; soon in some houses and shops of the place, irremediably the water began to enter.

For the fortune of the child and the stranger that store had a large step in the entrance that the water could not get through and even inside, only reached his wet shoes splash.

Due to the intensity of the rain and the inclination of the streets, the amount of water circulating in those moments with every second that passed was more and more without appearing that it would soon end.

Quickly the streets began to resemble the rapids of a river; due to the intensity with which the streets ran down the water, so many bumps, rocks and various objects that were on the road; they gave the water that turbulence so characteristic of the white water that in the rivers usually appear.

The child and the stranger could only watch as the water increased and its strength diminished, admired watching as that current dragged trash, plants, pieces of wood, tires and even what appeared to be a water tank, which probably the strong wind of some roof I managed to pull off or from a yard he managed to drag.

- Oh - exclaimed both to such a scene observe.

The worried child looked around and wondered if the rain would soon be over or if the entire town devastated by the water would end. It did not take long for the rain to begin to wane, those fierce winds that at times seemed that the small roof could tear, slowly stopped blowing.

The heavy rain soon became a breeze easy to carry and the strong currents of water soon its bravery began to cease, diminishing its flow. Those thunderings that resonated with unparalleled fury; gradually they began to shut up and as time went by they could be heard.

The boy watched intently as the clouds began to leave his hometown, taking with them that curtain of rain that had made him wait so long; watched carefully as the clouds in their slow progress, slowly the hill began to clear.

As he watched the scene, a large old van in front of the store stopped his walk and the horn began to whistle to get his attention; When he looked at his truck, he immediately recognized it; it was his grandfather’s truck that went there to look for him.

The boy headed towards the truck where his grandfather kept his door open to allow him a quick entry; Although practically the rain was about to end, even a lot of water ran through that place. As far as he could, he leaned down and took a big leap, with which he managed to reach the truck where he was received and trapped by his grandfather. Who with great skill helped him pass the passenger side where a clean and worn towel awaited him with which he began to dry.

At that moment the grandfather closed the door and started the vehicle again to move down the side street and back home with his nito, quine while drying with the towel, knelt on the seat to observe his surroundings and appreciate the ravages of the rain.

During his tour he could see people completely wet walking on the sidewalk carefully avoiding tripping over any object or falling into a hole that was here.

The boy watched as there were clearly annoyed and hurried people with the doors of his house open sweeping and throwing buckets of water to the street from inside his house looking to remove all the water that had already gotten.

In the light and telephone wires some birds that did not have time to hide in a better place rested wet and fluffy, waiting for the right moment to fly again.

On their way they passed by a grove in which large and numerous drops fell from the trees attracted to the earth by gravity, which at the time of impact with the sheet of the roof of the truck sounded as if it were raining again.

It did not take long for the sky to begin opening again, revealing among the small spaces between the clouds a beautiful, bright and sunny blue sky; rays of light fell from the sky, gently illuminating the countryside and the village.

For now the rain is gone, the sky is clearing and the child at home to rest has left, for the next day to continue his life in this town so typical and unique.

Jan. 18, 2019, 3:26 a.m. 0 Report Embed 0
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Meet the author

Jorge Giovani Vallejo López Aproximadamente desde los 14 años inicie a escribir algunos cuentos propios, me encantan las historias de fantasía, acción y aventura; más aun me gusta escribir con una bella melodia alimentando mi imaginación.

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