Rain by Chipka
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Description
In the cloying darkness of the car, he listened to hollow, splattering clap of rain on fiberglass. There was wind, more impression than sound. City flotsam rode the wave-fronts of convective disturbance as if defining discreet (though interactive) spheres of influence. The wind (and its burden of city-junk) was an intimate aspect of the all-encompassing hologram: what you saw in wind (and city-junk) you could see in corporate boardrooms, in dance clubs on Friday nights, on church pews on Sunday, defined by pink-skinned or dough-pale matrons with pinched lips, or flamboyant brown-skinned sisters burdened with the flagrance of hats in all of the pastel colors of religious delerium. It was all the same: influence and flotsam, an invisible thing moving the visible world. Faith or fate, it didn’t matter what name you recognized. It happened in the ocean’s depths, it happened far below the world’s thin, brittle crust, and it happened now, just outside of the cab’s warmth. It happened in other ways and he could feel. He was little more than a dust mote, bestirred by invisible influence: nostalgia, as he judged it, catching sight of tree-shadows and raindrops colored blue by tinted glass at the upper border of the windshield.
The tree was an old one: the leviathan elm of his childhood. He’d climbed it with cousins and neighborhood friends. He’d stolen his first kiss beneath its leaves, stirred by midnight breezes on a moonless night tinged with gin and cigarettes. He’d lost and regained his heart there, and now, decades later, he sat in rain-splatter and pine-scented car-warmth, heart pounding in his throat and sweat beading (ever so slightly) on his forehead. There had been reasons to leave, to seek out a life elsewhere. He’d done so, and now, alone (despite his lifetime’s companion) he was back: hot and uncomfortable and on the cusp of whatever confrontations the day demanded.
“Are you ready?”
He nodded in response to the most familiar and comforting of rolling baritone voices. “Yeah,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” his companion said. “I’m right here.
He closed his eyes, seeking his companion’s hand with his own. “I know.”
There were influences of another kind: softer than wind and harder to define. He felt them now and heard them in the soft accent embedded in his companion’s words. He stole what comforts he could from the moment, and listened (for a moment) to the clapping splatter of rain.
*
I have no idea where the text above came from…texts tend to just ooze out on occasion. As to whether or not this becomes a full story remains up for debate. All I know is that it was triggered by the sight of a cottonwood tree through the tinted upper edge of a rain-splattered windshield. I liked what I saw. I captured it, and here it is—on Easter of all days—presented with no postwork aside from resizing.
As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and as things slowly (very slowly) begin to settle down, I hope to catch up on everything I’ve been missing since the beginning of this very odd month.
Comments (24)
Vonghese
Pretty.
zoren
this is great!!!
Bossie_Boots
Love the rain soaked screen and the narrative grabbed my attention superb work !!
mgtcs
Fabulous writing again Chip, loved the image, amazing capture!
NefariousDrO
It always amazes me how you're not only a superb visual artist (especially where photography is concerned) but also a powerful and moving writer as well. The photo is arresting, the blue color and the vague outlines of the tree, the water drops all combine for something that's both sad, and yet somehow beautiful. Which pretty much describes what you've written, as well.
anmes
Very striking work
Bothellite
The ever creative mind at work. Just think. Most of us don't have a friend like yours, that you have in your head, ready to surprise you.
kgb224
Love the capture and writing my friend.
helanker
Chip, this is a very beautiful rainy image. There is often such a warmth in your narratives. I like that. Hope your odd month is over for good and better times are ahead.
durleybeachbum
Another great 'oozing', and a remarkably evocative image to fit.
pauldeleu
Very nice indeed! The blue sky, the water and the trees are very good.
flavia49
fantastic story and pic!
jac204
This is amazing how the words came to you like that. The tree in the background makes such a pattern when combined with the raindrops, Bravo!
Orinoor
It's amazing to me how you can capture a feeling so ethereal, so common, yet completely undefinable. Really great writing.
evielouise
Lovely as can be !~
minos_6
What an amazingly simple yet impactful image! Of course your words enhance its value as always, but as a standalone this is simply stunning. I commented on one of your previous posts that you have a unique photographer's eye, and this is yet another sublime example. Excellent, and a firm favourite!
sandra46
what a precious work!
RodS
Very lovely image!
MrsRatbag
Nice little storylet, Chip; I love how you write these little scenes. They're all fascinating in their own right. This one fits the photo perfectly!
Ilona-Krijgsman
Again a wonderful shape and idea....it express so much well done
CoreyBlack
What a fantastic shot! I love the "under glass" look with the tree beyond and the water droplets in such clear focus, coupled with the extreme angle. This is really quite stunning, and the story snippet makes it all the more mesmerizing. Brilliant work here!
danapommet
The image of the old tree comes through the rain soaked window. I love the blue hues. Dana
Josel007
Impressive artwork!!!
icerian
Fantastic shot, well seen, well captured.