A Whispered War-Cry

It is raining.

I stand, silent and afraid, watching her every movement.  She is staring down at me, dry beneath the overhang, wearing a look of amazement.  She does not believe me, perhaps cannot.  Her face hardens and I feel my heart stop.  Her arm thrusts outward, pointing to something far-off and remote.  She wants me to go, to leave immediately and never return.  I stand, silent and afraid, feeling heavy with shame and despair.  She opens her mouth, but the words are lost in the howling wind.  I’m glad I cannot hear.  I turn slowly, begin to walk.  I don’t know where I’m going, but I cannot stay.  I walk for hours, lost in hopeless isolation.  Up ahead I see a river.  I step in and the current pulls me under.  The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is her face, twisted in disgust.

It is still raining.

I don’t know exactly what this is.  It’s not very good, anyway.