The clouds closed in on the scene. The sudden darkness did not go unnoticed. He looked up. It was going to rain. Though he knew this, he made no move to get under protection. There he sat, and there he stayed.
The dark, very black lake sat still as a rock before, but not now. Large ripples ran across the lake as the wind picked up. The man’s hair flitted around his face as he followed the echoing ripples with his eyes, and yet, he did not move.
The darkness was obvious now. Gray and black fought each other for the stage, but no light came through. The wind whipped around leaves and the unsteadiness in the black lake continued to increase. And still, the man did not move. There he sat, and there he stayed.
The branches seemed to be singing a sad melody for the life that had been altered only hours before. The drops of rain that began to fall made up the percussion to this sad song. The rattling leaves were the tambourine and the lake was the conductor. This sad symphony brought tears, once again, to the man’s dull, gray, eyes. He didn’t even reach up to wipe away the tears that rolled down his face. The tears fell, as if in melody with the rain. The sad orchestra continued to play their mourning song and the man continued to cry.
The rain fell harder now, soaking the man’s clothes, and dark, black, hair. He thought of what he had done as he stared out at the rippling lake. Why did I do it? He thought. Why did I give up the last good thing in my life?
The man dropped his head into his hands and let the rain soak him further. More tears fell through his fingers and landed on the already wet ground. He looked up and took a deep calming breath. Then, he reached up and wiped away the salty tears that streaked his face, leaving blotchy, pinky-red trails behind.
The black lake swayed in tune with the music, as did the branches, the grass, and the leaves. Suddenly, lightning lit the stage. Thunder joined the chorus of the noise as well. Boom! Drip, drop, drip, drop! Whoosh! Flash. The mourning symphony played and played. But the man refused to move. There he sat, and there he stayed.
The sad song began to get angrier and more aggressive now. The wind and rain slapped the man across the face with great force, and leaves swarmed his head. How? How could you do that? They seemed to scream at him. You terrible, terrible, man! They ranted. The man just sat and took his punishment. I am terrible. They are right. How could I? He agreed.
The storm roared in anger and cried in honor of the poor soul whose life was damaged for the worse. The rain came down in sheets of evaporated water. The sky lit up and cracked like a whip. The lake conducted the show and swayed with the wind. The leaves flew around and the wind whistled through the trees. And the man sat, and took what he was given.