You, me and the rain

            Its been raining for hours. Day turned to night and the rain continued. I think of you as I sit on my porch listening to the rain. Soft music echoes from inside the house, the patter of rain sounds outside and on the roof. I watch as a seemingly endless supply of rain pelts the trees, sidewalk and street.

            The world changes when it rains. The sound of rain is almost hypnotic, sending you back into your deepest memories. My body relaxes as I watch and listen. A cool breeze drifts past me. I sip from my glass and I think back.

            Rainy days always make me a little sentimental and nostalgic, every chill in the air mixed with the warmth coming from my house makes me think of you. Cuddling on the couch as we watched the rain. I get lonely and think of those days. I miss you, eternally. On warm days its easier, the sun makes me too warm and I can distract myself from my feelings. But on cool nights and especially when it rains, I feel so relaxed and happy and think, the only way this could be better is if you were here with me.

            So I sit and sip my drink, Scotch on the rocks. It lets me sleep and when I sleep I dream of your face and your gentle touch. With the rain, the wind and my thoughts of you, if I could make this night go on forever I would. A peaceful evening and a night of pleasant dreams, the light of morning comes too soon, but for now it’s just You, Me and the rain.

Memories of a Stranger - Yuri

Henry sat in the “Good Times bar”, smoke filled the room and he clutched his glass of scotch. It was a pretty quiet night at the bar. On weekends it got crowded and rowdy, but on weeknights, it was only the sad old bastards that lingered. Blues and rock style music played in the background. The music mixed with the whispered conversations from the patrons at the tables toward the back, all of this mixed together and just sounded like noise.

Henry was thirty, hardly an old bastard, well hardly old. He came to this bar every night for two reasons, his love of scotch whiskey and the information and gossip he would hear around the bar. People were always so loose with their secrets, especially on slow nights when it seems like no one is listening. Henry was an freelance investigative journalist. He would risk his neck for the top stories and sell them to the highest bidder. He made a good living off of this and found it was better than sitting at a desk all day.

Henry wore an old trench coat and a matching fedora, he had shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He always looked like he needed a shower and a shave, though he did bathe regularly and shaved occasionally…and never flossed.

On this particular night, Henry heard two old men talking. ‘old’ is so relative. So instead of using it to describe an actual number like 70, he used the term to describe appearance. For instance, Henry wasn’t old, but he seemed old. So he often referred to himself as an old bastard. So Henry was watching these two old guys and listening in on their conversation. At first it sounded like they were talking about catching fish. These men looked like they could be fishermen. Not ‘Sunday morning fishing with your son’ kind of fishermen, the real kind. The kind that go out into the ocean and catch all the fish in the ocean so the humans on land can gorge themselves on more types of food. So anyway, back to the fish. These sly old geezers who were probably not any older than sixty, talked about fish and for an hour it sounded like they were just talking about fish. But then Henry heard something interesting. The term fish used in the wrong context or in the wrong way. Henry was pretty drunk by this point but as the conversation went on, it sounded like the word ‘fish’ was code for something else and when someone says. “The fish drop is tonight” it starts to sound like someone is talking about drugs.

Henry began scribbling in his note pad that he keeps in his coat. he wanted to make sure he didn’t forget any of the details. Henry wrote as the men talked. “The fish will be at the warehouse. Someone needs to come and get it” Said one of the men. Henry scribbled furiously. The weather that night was in the fifties and it was sprinkling rain. Cool weather, but not cold enough to keep fish fresh in some warehouse. “Wouldn’t they refer to the fish as ‘them’ not ‘it’?” Henry thought. He was pretty drunk though and wondered if he was just getting suspicious for no reason.

Then something happened that no one would ever expect to happen in a million years. A girl walked into the “Good Times” bar. The door opened and shut and the customers casually turned their heads to see who it was, as they did every time someone entered. This time though, the customer’s eyes were fixed on the newcomer. “Hey how can I help y-“ The bartender started to say then saw the girl standing at the bar. “-You?”  He finished his sentence and smiled. The girl looked to be about 25 was 5’6, thin but with subtle sexy curves. She wore a short-sleeved dress shirt un-tucked, black slacks and black dress shoes. Her hair was short and styled and dyed purple. Any skin showing showed lean toned muscle. She walked in with confidence and a sense of purpose. “Scotch neat” The girl said flatly. The bartender smiled and fixed her drink. Henry looked at the girl, he was the only one at the bar who hadn’t been staring at her like an idiot this whole time. He only looked because she ordered the same thing he had been drinking. He looked and she looked back. He smiled and held up his glass to show he had the same drink. Then he went back to drinking.

Henry was trying to listen to these ‘fishermen’ talk, but they stopped because they were too busy staring at the attractive young girl in the bar. “Old perverts” Henry grumbled. He wrote down most of the information he needed already, but could have used a few more details. “Whatcha working on?” asked the girl as she said down next to Henry. “Just some notes. So I see you like scotch” Henry said, changing the subject. The girl brushed a bit of purple hair out of her eyes and smiled “Yeah, its what my dad drank and he was tough as nails. So when I was a teenager I tried it and now I’m just used to it. Its like comfort food” The girl replied. Henry laughed. It was one of those laughs that came out so unexpectedly, like it forced its way out. “Heheh, scotch sure is comfort food for me too” he said. “My names Yuri” the girl said as she reached out her hand for a shake. Henry wiped his hands on his pants to get rid of any booze or sweat then shook her hand. “Names Henry. Yuri, that’s a strange name. No offense though” Henry said

Yuri chuckled “My father was Japanese. But I grew up in America. We settled in this city when I was a kid” Yuri explained. “Poor kid, having to grow up here” Henry replied without thinking. “I mean, Im sure you lived in a fine part of…” Henry added but Yuri stopped him. “Its fine. Don’t worry about it.” She said with a smile.

            Meanwhile one of the bar patrons didn’t like how chummy Henry was getting with the new girl. He was mad because this hot young girl came into the bar and sat right down next to the biggest bum in the whole bar. “Hey, Buddy. Yer bothering the lady” Said a muscular man that looked to be in his late thirties. “I was sitting here first. She sat next to me. Maybe she is the one bothering me! I don’t see you defending my honor. Am I not pretty enough?” Henry told the guy. Yuri chuckled. Henry hadn’t even turned around in his chair to say this to the man’s face. The muscular man grabbed onto the back of Henry’s coat and tried to pull him off his barstool. Before he could though, Yuri had jumped out of her seat and slammed a fist down onto the bully’s wrist, breaking his wrist. She then moved in front of him and gave him a right and left hook to the face.

The muscular man only had a chance to grab Henries coat before he was dispatched. He laid on the ground with a broken wrist and two black eyes.

Yuri sat back down and sipped her drink. Henry was smiling ear to ear. “Your quick, I should hire you to be my bodyguard” He said. “Well I could use the money and no one seems to like you around here” Yuri replied. Henry meant it as a joke, but once he thought about it, he realized it might be a good deal. “You’re hired.” He said. Yuri gave a little cheer in Japanese. Henry smiled and then looked over at the old ‘fishermen’ by this point they had run off, Probably from all the commotion. Henry might have lost the rest of his lead, but he did gain a bodyguard. So that is almost as good. He just hoped She didn’t bring more trouble with her. Henry had as much excitement as he could take for a while.

Mysterious Stranger

    In the cold of the night a lone figure stood under a street lamp. It was midnight and the city streets were empty. The surrounding houses and buildings were run down and old and litter blew around with every winter wind that rolled through. The figure of a man was wearing a black trench coat and a hat. He was trying hard to conceal his face, but while doing so looked like the most suspicious character anyone can imagine. He also seemed out of place, not only was the trench coat fairly new looking but his shoes looked expensive and his hat was clean and well cared for.
    The man stood motionless by the street lamp, he didn’t even flinch or shiver when the cold wind blew through the city. It was the kind of wind that would cut through your layers of clothes and chill you to the bone, yet the man did not move. He stood unaffected by the cold and the wind. He didn’t seem restless or bored from standing around nor was he nervous about looking so suspicious. He was like a phantom or the image of a man caste on the sidewalk.
    A car pulled up and a tall man in a suit stepped out. He didn’t speak, instead stood next to the figure like he was waiting for a bus. The man in the suit set down a brief case and adjusted his tie. “The deadline is Saturday” said the suited man. Then he stepped back into the car and the car drove off.
    The mysterious figure stood stern and imposing, unflinching at the transaction. He seemed to be a man that was so used to these kinds of meetings that they seemed mundane. Then with a loud snort the mysterious man woke up. Albert Lewis was a business man who had been waiting for the bus. He had been working twelve hours a day for the last eight days and often had to take the late bus home. Albert rustled in his coat and shook his arms to further wake up. He checked his watch and smiled. “Must of dozed off” he said. Then the bus pulled up, right on time. Albert stepped up onto the bus and took a seat. He felt silly for falling asleep standing up and was happy he hadn’t fallen over or been robbed or worse, missed his bus.
    The bus pulled away and drove off. The mysterious briefcase was left sitting on the sidewalk with no one to claim it and the ‘mysterious’ stranger was just a sleepy business man.
In the cold of the night a lone briefcase stood under a street lamp….

Windmill in the rain

            The rain poured down in buckets, the wind kicked up and rushed through the blades of the windmill. The windmill turned. The windmill blades turned and inside the grinding wheel spun. Around and around did the wheel spin. The windmill was empty, no one was there to grind wheat or corn, but still the wheel spun. Weather waits for no man and the wind blew harder and the rain poured down. Huge amounts of energy and motion poured through this old device. A towering building made with giant fans all just to turn one grinding wheel. A wheel that was small by comparison to the building and all of the effect it needed.

            The wind blew on all night and the windmill continued to turn without rest. The stone wheel grinded and sparked and embers began to fly off. Stone grinding on stone, in a building made of wood. The sparks flew and embers found a cozy home in a pile of unused wheat. The embers burned brightly, eating up the oxygen and burning the wheat. The fire burned and produced energy and heat. But there was no one around to feel its warmth or to tame it. So the fire burned on. Flames flicked the air and slowly rose up. Getting bigger and stronger. The ember turned into fire and now formed flames that burned brightly as it ate all the wheat. The fire was large now and burning bright, it crackled and flicked. Now it was so large it spread to the wood in the building, lumber and planks of wood keeping the large structure together. The fire had become greedy and ate and ate as it spread. The flames grew bigger and produced more flames as it went.

            The rain poured down and the wind kicked up. The windmill turned and the flames spread. The fire continued to grow and it burned everything in its path. Now the flames were huge and unforgiving. None could stand in its way. The flames burned the wood and destroyed the beam turning the wheel. The grinding wheel slowed down then stopped. The fire climbed higher and higher until it reached the ceiling. In its mindless hunger it consumed the ceiling too. The windmill had been protecting the flames within from the rain and the wind. Now the roof had a hole burned through it and the windmill fan blades even caught fire. The rain poured down and battled the flames but the fire was stubborn and clung onto the windmill for life. The rain beat down on the fire as the fire burned down the Windmill.

            Morning finally arrived and the storm had passed. The rain had moved on, leaving only soggy earth, the windmill burned down and the flames were extinguished, now leaving only ash. Nature can produce such fierce elements that rage on and produce infinite energy and power, but then the next moment it could all be gone, like the passing of the storm, the turning of the windmill or the burning of the flame.