Yet Another Update

I'm working on the short story thing. I promise. I just packed a huge suitcase with two pairs of running shoes, a pair of boots, a pair of heels, a tool kit, and some other stuff. And then I went through my clothes and donated some stuff to my sister. Why I am posting a laundry list (no pun intended)? I don't know. Maybe because my brain is whirling? I'm not panicking (at the moment), so it's a good day. It's cloudy out - looks like rain!! I love rain. And thunderstorms, especially. It's weird. I've found that a lot of bloggers love thunderstorms. It must be imagination...

Hmm... it was a dark and story night. No, my bad. A dark and stormy noon. The clouds, thick like mashed potatoes - no! Awful. What was I thinking?

Okay, round two. Ahem:

It was a dark and stormy noon. The rain collected in the clouds, intent on pummeling the earth, longing for that signal, the breaking of the clouds, so they could complete their mission.

Raindrop #296 looked at his partner, 297. "Mission?"

297 rearranged his atoms to smile; he resembled a grinning blimp. "A rose bush. Award-winner. Joseph's Coat."

His friend 299, the new kid, winced. "Ouch. Watch for the thorns."

297 nodded sagely. He was a veteran, having been reincarnated three hundred and fifty-nine times through the water cycle. He was at Gettysburg. He was at the battle of Arbonne. A rose bush was cake for him. "I'll hit the flower, slid down the curve of the top petal, past the leaves, and down the stem. Unless an enemy derails me, I'll make it to the base of the plant and the soil. After that..."

The three fell silent, silently honoring their fates. It went unsaid, but they thought of the same thing: how some of their number would fall into the street and roll in a teeming mass of other drops into the sewer. From there it was a long underground ride, through processors, to the ocean. It could be a month before Evaporation, that heavenly being, lifted them from the sea into the sky.

And those were the lucky ones. Those like 297, who fulfilled their mission, would seep into the soil. The roots of the rose would eventually slurp him into its system, deconstructing him and using his different molecules for its life processes. He would be torn apart. It would be months at the least, even years before he took that celestial journey into the clouds again.

Look, a short! How did that happen? :-)