January 23, 2009
To simply say that the sky had opened and that the rain was furiously pouring from the heavens wouldn’t have given justice to the brutal storm that lay above. The rain cascaded from the clouds and landed with a terrible merciless belt upon the earth. The rivers overflowed, the sky rang out in the clash of thunder, and in the middle of the field, drenched in the frigid cold rain sat the only man who remained outside to witness the storm’s awesome force.
His name was Mark Stephens. He had heard that the storm was on its way, but his mind had dismissed the notion that the rain could possibly interfere with his plans as the weather had been an insignificant detail in the back of his mind. But as he left her house and started down the road he saw the first bolt of lightning streak across the sky, followed by the first great bellow of thunder. He outstretched his arms and looked up to the sky; the dark clouds were a fitting omen to the fate he had just befallen.
The rain started swiftly with a cruel and unrelenting patter. Mark took off down the road holding his hands protectively over his head. His feet felt heavy as they waded through the mud swept street. He tripped and struck the unforgiving pavement with a painful blow. He contemplated the consequences of simply laying face down in the sodden street for a moment before lifting his head and wiping the mud from his face. He rolled onto his back and looked into the unrelenting heavens. He saw one more great flash of lightning before the rain became too much for his eyes and he rolled to his side.
She had said that there was someone else. The thunder rang out with a loud bang; Mark looked into the distance as he recognized a familiar field through the trees. He picked himself up from the muck of the street, abandoning the path that lead to his house in pursuit of the field. He started off in a bit of a jog but he slowly lessened the pace until he was casually sauntering into the middle of the field. He gave a final look up to the sky and than planted himself on the cold moist earth, with his head buried in his arms.
He still had the ring in his pocket. The thunder crashed with another cruel bang as the rain continued to pound onto his head. The rain was simply mocking him, a hallow shell of sadness compared to the misery that engulfed him. Others would have found the downpour a fitting companion given the circumstances, but Mark’s wave of despair had made him numb to any physical feeling, even the unrelenting downpour.
His head emerged from his hands and he looked out over the field. He fell onto his back and spread his arms to the side. He no longer felt the moisture of the rain as his clothes were heavy with the rain water, and he simply looked to the sky for the passing flashes of lightning. He hoped the storm would last forever. He had no desire to leave this field, and the thought was overwhelming his being, she was leaving him. The sky rang out again as the storm raged on. He hoped that soon hypothermia might set in and he would be rid of the cruel world that had cast him to the side.
But the storm gently rolled over as Mark drifted to sleep in the field. And the comfort of the morning sun quietly dried away the wetness of the clothes. As he awoke he couldn’t help feeling that the whole night had been a horrible dream. He looked around at his surroundings and slowly rose to his feet. He removed his overcoat and brushed away the dirt that was caked onto his shirt. He felt into his pocket and pulled out the ring, he glanced at it for a moment before throwing it far off into the distance of the field. He threw his overcoat over his shoulder and with a calm stride, he left the field.

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