Romeo Alpha India November (RAIN)

The rain began to shower at the moment I pressed the different alphabet on the keyboard. The subbing state of the mind began to formulate a cloudy thought as the skies at the moment weren’t in the mood of good things. I just passed this one I said, instead of murmuring in the video clips I downloaded, I just write according to the style and the passion that I want.

As you could observe in my latest blog, I used a different arrangement of words, the metaphor and other likely creative speech of giving the scenery in my head, I just wanted to flow those undertrained words, the product of the wild guess and the promotions of creative words in the writing technique.

Sound weird but I liked that kind of style, the languishing to cope. The word arrangements were depicted as a complex brushing, a type of group that will say then command to think and imagine.

Could you hear the sound of rain,  raining produces a melody and rhyme in the beat. The basin that was held outside produces a drum-like vibration of the numbers, the wind and the blowing air becomes a singer outside.

I woke up this morning because of shaking of the ground, a mild earth wake that woke my parent and immediately come to my room, a sound of my mother asking if I felt the same wave for she wasn’t sure if it was just imagination or the real thing.

Does heaven also cry and that mourning was the rain? The pureness of the earth was from the teardrops of heaven, maybe because the clouds are also tired of showing the beautiful skies, so they take a rest on rainy days.

We had all the memories in the rain, the drop and splashing water came to the image my yesterday when the rain was still fresh and a child play at the mud swimming in the pit of water reserved. We don’t have snow or hale, but the image presenting the angel wings while floating in the mud and moving the hands to form a wings span was underneath the chips of my childhood memory plane.

Laugher for the grass has become a comfortable place to stay, the old house near the farm has become a hideout as the child goes on in the middle of the rice fields. We were all boys losing the place going out to the old house while waiting for the rain to stop when I heard a familiar voice, it’s a group of frogs.

Yeah beneath the life of the farming land we heard a noisy organism just like laughing around, the bullfrogs.

We cannot endure the action of singing “rain, rain goes away, little children want to play”. People and adults wanted to sleep in the old weather of the rain, but the child who was me wanted just to play. Singing might help, it might be heard by the God of the rain, come one get back the rain for we don’t need at the moment so we can play.

Ensure that the water splash in the hair will dry after going back home, my mama wanted to look at me as dried hair, but we can't hide the evidence of the wrinkle hands and the cold and sneeze to the common ground of telling it to you're fault you didna want to hear the words, a loud voices of my Mama. Then Papa brings his belt and spanks in me. I am dead.

The memories were comeback as the words comes to speak with me, the last drop of the water from above was just symbolized that I was playing in the rain, the stopping was just the excused but playing within the power of the cold rain is like listing your self in the cloud of unending game.

It's not that bad at playing in the rain, just this time that getting wet for a second could catch a normal flue and some exhaust was ended up in the quarantine for the said virus could be visible in the rain.

It has no clue nor validations, but when I was in my uncle's house just last week and the rain poured out, I hated for I don’t have an umbrella or hut, but he was mad not because I don’t have that but I am trying to run away with the rain to go home.

He scolded me, I don’t know what to say but just laughed and let the rain go a little before heading back home. Don’t let yourself supper from the stubbornness in going at the rain.

After the rain, there was a rainbow, and as the moment I am writing the last page of this write. The rain stopped and the rainbow began to be visible. As I need to go out and looked around to please the mind that I had.

This is free flow and creative writing. Thanks for reading…