Conversation with the night rain··Novl duration 5 mins
Conversation with the night rain
The room was dark. The obscure shadows moved quietly through the light square pattern of the curtains on the window, and to the child lying in the crib close to the window the room was like a mysterious cave with the dark silhouettes of some fairy creatures. The boy wanted so much to look back to see them, but he could not do it; his fear kept him immobilized there. Thus the night theater of the shadows gradually took hold of his soul, and the baby quietly babbled, but as his parents have forgotten how to be kids themselves, they could not understand what his babbling meant through the monitor. They did not realize that the baby can think and understand no worse than them. The only issue was his language which for now was quite different from the one the adults spoke.
- Aaagh-au-agh ... the boy whispered, and it meant: "Please, talk to me; I'm scared in the dark!"
Only silence answered him.
He was about to call for help one more time when suddenly the child heard quiet sounds from outside. As if the stars were coins and fell from the sky, ringing on the window sill. They were rain drops - young ones, just like him, released from the cloud above the house. The child quickly realized that the rain drops wanted to entertain him, and entered into a conversation with them.
"Gau-pa-uu ..." the boy babbled.
The rain kept falling on the window sill.
In fact, the conversation between the babies was different, complex and profound
"How old are you?" The human child asked curling and uncurling his fingers
"I'm only a few minutes old" answered one of the daughters of the rain cloud
"And how long will you live?" asked again the baby in the crib
"I do not know," another child of the cloud answered. "My brothers and sisters, the droplets, fall from the sky and immediately die, breaking on the sill or absorbed into the ground. But in the ground they nourish the roots of trees, become their nectar, climb up the branches and again evaporate, rising to the sky. And there again there is a cloud from which I am born for a new life, for a new fall... This is our life; short and eternal."
"Will I live the same way?" asked the boy hesitantly; already afraid what the answer might be
"No... You only live once, but your life is long and uninterrupted, it will last more than eight decades, and then you will return to the earth just like us and turn into ambrosia for the grass and flowers..."
"This is wonderful! With this much time at my disposal I will be able to do a lot in my life then! I will never get bored! And who am I going to be? How are the people you saw from the sky?"
"People are different," thought another rain drop "I find it difficult to understand them. Some grow up too quickly and forget that they were once children. They no longer want to talk with them seeing them as a liability as they are too young to understand the world. They hate rain as if they are going to melt. Everyday they fuss, run, talk to a small metallic box, search for something that they do not know themselves, and then, after many years, they turn into dust on a land where nothing grows. On the other side, there are other people; people of the rain, who all their lives retain the ability to communicate with the earth and the sky. They babble like you, laugh like the sun, cry like a cloud, but no one understands them. Usually such people do not live long, but for them it does not matter how many years they will walk the earth. For them it is important in what direction they will choose to live; meaning the direction of dust or direction of rain."
"It's really hard to understand..." the boy babbled while sucking on his finger. It seemed very appetizing at that moment. "You know, rain, I do not want to be either the first or the second category of the people you mentioned. It's good to go through life somewhere in the middle, so that you do not afflict other people, yourself, or even the earth. Is this even possible?"
"I do not know," thought one of the sons of the rain cloud. "You see, you'll soon have to make a choice: will you speak the language of people or will you choose to continue speaking like you do now. Choose wisely though, for when you do, you will not be able to understand both of them. Your world will change. Everything you know now will fade from your memory forever or, at least, for a very long time...”
“But wait,” another droplet smiled “When I swam over the earth in the cloud, I saw a man who was talking to a tree in human language and he understood it. You know what he said? "Under the greenwood tree, who loves to lie with me, ... unfortunately I do not remember the rest but he was gracious in his words."
"Who was he?" the child asked excitedly
"A poet," explained the droplet. "There are people who, although they possess what they call reason, they can feel us, our true nature; our language. They often have a hard time, but we do our best to comfort them when the clouds flock over them. Their imagination is wide and it happens that they live the real life. They experience the best and the worst of both human natures, dream as nobody else and overcome everything."
"Wow! In this case, I want to be one of them! " exclaimed the baby and swung his arms and legs in every direction
"So you made your choice," the first rain drop said sadly "Now we must part with you; until the day you will write poems about us. For now, farewell!"
The rain suddenly stopped falling from the cloud, and gradually the first ray of light penetrated through the curtains. The parents of the baby woke up and noticed that their child was no longer babbling. They smiled and approached the crib.
"You were quite talkative tonight." they said above him "Who was your interlocutor? He must have been a very interesting fellow if you are so happy. Tell us!”
"I," the boy said his first word with a smile full of confidence “I”
He made his choice.