…Maybe it was the rain, I’m not sure. Perhaps it was the crackling lightning, or the dark skies that cloaked the world. Yet, it may have been the delicate fog, silently slithering unto my feet. That could have been why, no, it must have been why. I had felt a slight vibration in the air; it had felt as if something had crawled up my neck and danced upon my tongue; it was indeed quite unsettling, but perhaps not as unsettling as that strange little girl, the strange little girl that carried that sad profound look. The one that I saw in the middle of the street in howling traffic, the same little girl that I heard cry for help last night, and quite possibly the same little girl that was being carried away by those men garbed in strange cloaks, for the little girl that stood in the middle of the road had disappeared. “Wait!” I shouted not knowing what had happened in the time that I had wasted in thought, but with a small flash of lightning and a large crackle of thunder, no one had heard, and I wonder if anyone would have cared if they had.

--


Let’s start from the very beginning, from where it all seemed to fall apart. It was the rain, indeed it was rain, nothing but the rain, because when there is rain I feel there is sadness; I feel as if the sadness of the world has pierced the clouds, and given it a darken color. It is as though the clouds take in the sadness, cloak the skies in a grey color and cries for those sad souls. I absolutely hate that.

Hello, my name is Drew, Drew Eveton, but those who know me sometimes call me Dream. It came from an elementary teacher that had bad eyesight; she mistook the W for an M. “Dreme Veton,” she called; no, my life is certainly not a dream; I live in reality, and in reality, my father is dead, but enough of that, no one here knows me about my...or my past.

Back in Sacramento, my home town, I was an average boy, sleeping through school and laughing with friends; but fate would have that changed, I ended up without a father; they had said it was natural causes and that god had a plan, and father was part of god’s great plan, but I know otherwise, it was no natural causes, no god that took my father away. It was those men dressed in black cloaks, but they laughed; of course they laughed I was an elementary boy then, “I know you’re hurt, we all are, but you were asleep when we found you, and besides cloaked men do not exists in the world,” said the man solemnly as he glanced down at the book clutched between my small fingers. It was a small book “Cloaked,” it had a couple cloaked in black robes drawn on the cover, a young teenage male and a young teenage female. My anger welled; they did not believe me, “It’s true,” I screamed, with tears dripping to the floor. I threw the book at the wall and ran out of the hospital into the rain. The rain in Sacramento, a rare sight; I knew it was crying for my father.

Now I live in Seattle, I moved after my father died, rain almost everyday; I hated the rain, it was always sad; that’s one thing that Seattle had that Sacramento didn’t-no rain, no crying. The student here look at me with disgust; don’t get me wrong, I am not a cruel person; I’m actually rather nice, I just prefer not to show it. I’m now entering high school, age 14, and the world hates me, but that’s okay, because the world took away my father; the world let those men escape, and the world moved me to this city full of rain, but it’s perfectly alright; one day I’ll move away, one day the world will love me, and maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll find those men.

--


I sat in my cool bed and stared into the ceiling and thought about my life, nothing in particular. My thought soon led me to today. I thought about how my math teacher had kept me after school for not paying attention. “One day you will understand and you will know that I helped you onto the right path; you know, I have been hearing some nasty things about you Mr. Eveton, and I am ready to help with your problems,” I gave a nod and said, “Yes Mrs. Wakeford.” Rumors don’t define a person, their actions do.
Because of her I missed my bus and walked home in the pouring rain. I walked by the city park and saw the many trees inside the park, and I wondered if the plants liked the rain, do they enjoy this wet city? The walk was a dismal sight; dark, clouds cover the sky with a heavy rain; cars driving past, their lights barely penetrating through the thick deluge. I gave a large sigh “Rain, rain, go away…” I began “Come again some other day…” finished the voice of a girl. I turned to see a little girl, maybe aged eight; her large smile brought a small grin to me face. “Hello,” I said. The girl was quiet for a moment; I saw her stare through me and turn around, a heavy rain was all that awaited me. I turned back. “The rain is always crying,” she said “I wonder who it cries for.” I looked up at the dark clouds, heavy with rain, heavy with tears. “I wonder that as well…” I replied looking back down, but only finding the drenched park trees and grass. Though I could not see her, I heard her voice, “I bet it cries for my older sister, she’s missing. She’s about your age.” The girl’s voice seemed to echo in the park. I continued home.

--

The rain stopped when I arrived home, and after my silent dinner with my mother, I went out onto the roof and laid there staring up at the stars. It was a clear night today, with a bright crescent moon. “Why can’t nights always be like this?” I asked myself, but found no answer. I whispered some constellations; my father had taught me about stars, he knew lots of stars, inside and out; with his eyes closed, he could walk outside in a cloudy night, and point out every star; of course they were all correct, every last one of them. “Some say stars can predict the future and have special qualities,” I remember my father say “They can find things you didn’t know you were looking for, things missing from your life.” He only said that to me once, but I remember that cool summer night oh so very well.

I stared and named what I knew about the stars that were out tonight “The Big Dipper; not a constellation, located at Ursa Maj-” a scream pierced my ears. It was very faint, I wasn’t even sure if it was real, but it was a familiar voice; it was the voice of the girl I met at the park.

I jumped up and ran to the edge of the roof and jumped…I’m not sure why, but that girl had something familiar about her that I had to go help. Even if it was my imagination, I couldn’t live not knowing what would have happened if I didn’t help. The jump hurt my right foot, I’m not sure if it was sprained, but I didn’t care, I ran as fast as I could. “Help me,” I seem to have heard, it was also faint, but loud enough to know that it was real. “I’m coming,” I yelled back, but I received no answer. I ran and ran, but without her voice to lead me I had lost her. I walked back to my house with my head low. Something could have happened to her and I was too slow to do anything. I looked up at the sky, clouds were slowly coming in; it would be another rainy day tomorrow.

--


I now sit in my bed wondering what had happen; I would not get a good night sleep tonight. That girl, I feel that I know her. I feel as though I have an obligation to protect her, I’m not sure why though. My mind eventually filled with clutter and I slowly, ever so slowly drifted to a soundless slumber.

--


After school I walked out of the building as normal, and as expected the rain…as normal. I got on the bus and took an empty seat at the very back of the bus. A normal bus ride, the bus started and left the school, and the monotonous tap of the rain continued. I leaned my head into the window, fold my arms and thought. I wondered who that little girl was; why was she alone at the park, and where was she now. I even thought about her missing sister. I pondered over this for the entire bus ride while rain fell down the window, thin streaks of water, where the path was made; thin lines of sadness lined that window.

I exited the bus; and headed for the other bus; I need to transfer buses to get home, or at least get close to it. I walked through the city and say a streak of lightning strike the tall building. “These buildings are closest to the sky, I wonder if this rain comes from the sadness of the people inside the building,” I thought. Maybe something big happened today, that’s why there’s such a heavy storm today, that’s why there was a slight fog creeping in that I hardly noticed. Traffic was slow today, cars still moved through the semi-busy streets but not as fast today. I looked ahead to see if I could see what was slowing the traffic down, oblivious to the fog at my feet. I only looked part of the way, because a little bit down the road I saw that little girl, the same as last night. That’s when I noticed the growing fog; it was covering almost all of her legs. I wondered if it really was that girl; then in the blink of an eye the girl disappeared. Frantic, I looked down the road and saw cloaked men carrying her away. For me, the present is usually the worst time to be in, this is no different.