The crack of thunder woke me with a start. I blearily opened my eyes and sat up, staring out my window, into the cold, steady rain. The familiar view was filled full of cheerily lit houses. Despite having lived in the house for over a year, I still wasn't used to having a view like that. I could only see a few blocks because of the hills, but it was more than I had ever had before. Had it been a clear day I would have been able to see the sun glaring down at me from above the distant horizon. But on that day the sun was completely obscured by the rain clouds that extended for miles in every direction.

“Good morning Misha”, I said quietly to my dog, a little reddish brown corgi. It was barely even morning, but she looked like she could keep sleeping through the whole day. She blinked up at me, then turned back to looking at the rain, nervously. The thunder had woken her up too, and she did not like it. I contentedly pet her and listened to the rain. I've always loved the rain, and that day's rain was perfect. Just cold enough so that being wrapped up under a heavy blanket was comfortable, just loud enough to be a pleasant background noise, just strong enough to discourage outside activities, but not so strong that going outside would be terrible if it was necessary. I don't hate going outside or anything, but I love rainy days. There's something about the sound of the rain tapping on my window, the distinctive smell that stays after the rain clears, the way the rain drops run down my window, all while knowing that I'm perfectly safe and warm inside my house and under my blankets.

After I eventually decided to get up, that day started like any other. I used the bathroom and opened the back door so my dog could go outside. She scampered over to the door like usual, but instead of going out there she just stared at the rain.

“Ha, is that little dumby scared of the rain?” my brother joked from the kitchen where he was making breakfast.

“She just doesn't like being wet. You making a plate of Sriracha sauce with a side of chicken again?” I responded. He answered with a smile and moved back to the stove. Misha still hadn't moved and it was getting cold so I closed the door. I grabbed her leash and some bags and got ready to go out in the rain. Walking her in the rain was always annoying, because once we got back it would take forever to dry her, but better that than cleaning up her pee inside. I got back over an hour later with Misha wetter than the ocean. I grabbed a towel, got some lunch, and settled in as I started the never ending process of drying her. It took an hour or so, but eventually she was dry enough to be allowed around the house and I started my other chores.

Once I was done cleaning my room, vacuuming and sweeping the house it was almost dinner time. I had a terrible craving for some Coca-Cola, so I figured I would pop down to the liquor store a block away and get a can before dinner. While I was walking, I could hear some noise. It sounded like someone screaming, but that was probably just my neighbor's kids. They were always screaming, it just meant they were having fun. But the screaming got louder as I got farther away from them and I could start to make out some words. It sounded like a woman screaming, “NO, STOP! PLEASE!” but there was no way that was true. It was all just part of some party or something down the block. No reason to be suspicious, so I kept walking.

As I was crossing the street two figures came running down the hill at me. I didn't know what was going on but I didn't want any part of it. I turned to start walking back home when a deep voice said, “Stop right there, boy.” I stopped and turned around to face the two men in hoodies who had ran down the hill. One of them was holding something and running towards a car but the closer one was staring right at me from beneath his hood. He fumbled in his pocket for a second and then produced a small silver object. He pointed it at me and it took me a second to realize that the little circular end that I could see was the barrel of the gun.

I've seen guns before, but never from that angle. It seemed so small, but I couldn't tell why he would be pointing it at me, and then I realized. My hands, that had been in my pockets to escape the rain, slowly raised to above my head and I stopped. I didn't move a muscle in my body, and I noticed that I was holding my breath. Then, all of a sudden, he ran off to his partner in the car. Before he got in, he raised his gun directly up and fired two shots. The sound of the gun jolted me into action, and I turned around and sprinted home.

I was so dazed that the first thing I said when I entered my house was, “Well I can cross that off my bucket list.” I didn't know what to do so I just sat there quietly.

“What happened?” my mom asked, breaking the silence.

“I uh, well, um, I just had a gun pointed at me” I muttered. I don't remember exactly what happened next but a few minutes later my mom had gotten the story out of me and I was on the phone with a 911 operator. I started to fumble through what happened but a cop car pulled up down the block and the operator told me to talk to them instead. I didn't really feel like it but my mom steered me out the door and to the policemen talking with the lady who had been mugged.

“I can use my find my Iphone app if I can get to a computer” she was saying as I came up. It looked like she had been crying but she seemed otherwise fine. The cop grabbed a computer from inside his car and offered it to her, then turned to me. I started to rush through my description of what I saw, but as I got to the gun being pulled on me I slowed. The gravity of the situation kicked in as I realized just how easy it would have been for that man to completely end my life, and it terrified me. I mumbled through the rest of the story and left as soon as the cop let me, and I went home and collapsed in bed. I thought for a while about what would have happened if his finger twitched, or if I twitched and he got scared. Eventually I went to sleep, and I dreamed of the great unknown abyss of death.