The Storm-God's Lover

After she had cleaned up the floodwaters and chivvied the snarling clouds back into their pen, she returned to the bower, where her lover sat, hangdog and fuming.

“I didn’t mean to ruin it,” he said, before she could speak.  “I wanted to make a beautiful storm for you.”

“I didn’t ask,” she answered.  “But tell me, since you bring it up: why?”

“Because I’m not divine.  I’m just a man.  I wanted to do something.  To be something.  Why would you love me otherwise?

“Silly,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.  “You are special because you are mine.”

The Whitewater Prophet of First Street and Coombe Avenue

The streets flooded and still the rain came. They walked in water that nipped at their shins, slipping on manhole covers or tripping in hidden potholes. One fell while crossing a narrow intersection and was nearly swept away by the frothing water.

A figure approached, skimming atop the flood as though it were only damp sidewalk. They questioned him about his prowess.

"It is only as deep as you let it be," he told them. A sodden fedora floated past, and one of them abruptly sank to the thigh in the ankle-deep water.

The man glided away. They slogged on.

Overprotective

“Closed for rain?” Grampa scoffed. “When I was young, you put your boots and your coat and your gloves on, and you walked. We had a blast! Crunching along without a care in the world…”

“There aren’t usually a lot of fatalities,” said Karen, shooing Susan off to the playroom, “but it certainly wasn’t safe, even with the sub-walks. Someone was bitten last week in Houston.”

“Bah!” said Grampa. “Soft, the lot of you.” He stepped to the window and stared outside. The first spiders and scorpions pattered to the earth and lay stunned for a moment before scuttling away.

Falling on My Head

“It’s been kind of weird.”

“I guess we’ll get used to it eventually.”

A car splashed through a puddle on the street. “Ow, ow,” said the puddle.

“I think my toilet tried to grope me the other night.”

“The toilet?”

“Well, you know, the… inside.”

“Ah. I’m amazed you can still use it. Mine kept making retching sounds. I rented a Port-a-Potty.”

They walked in silence down the rainy street for a time. A stream of water chuckled darkly as it slithered into a storm drain.

“It’s just been weird, is all.”

“Yeah.”

“Wheeeee!” cried the raindrops as they fell.