[ For once, Vanessa had been asleep at a decent hour, though she had failed to make it upstairs. The rhythmic pounding of the rain against the window was enough to help her doze off on the couch in the parlor before she had a chance. The crash of thunder isn’t what wakes her hours later, but a scream too far away to hear. It catches her between sleeping and waking, where the dead whisper through the rush in one’s ear just before the transition takes and blue eyes drift open.
It’s gone when she wakes—forgotten. Now Vanessa only hears the clatter of the thunder again, and she looks to see her book on the floor. Leaving it behind, she can’t help but be drawn to where the storm rings loudest through the halls, and there she finds one of the kitchen windows still open. Nobody had thought it would rain today, after all, and no matter if it was winter, Vanessa liked the cold.
But the sugar has gotten wet.
After hurrying to shut the window, she catches the flash of lightning just as it strikes one of the other buildings—one might even call them manses—further down the courtyard. It’s enough for the ground to tremble. The sound rattles her bones. It's an invitation. She doesn’t rush out front to see the commotion several houses down, though, instead seizing the opportunity while neighbors are unlikely to spy. Enjoying the rain on her own will look strange enough, but being caught in her robe and night shift might be a step too far in this neighborhood.
Rarely does she get the opportunity to play outside, and she wastes no time in spinning, skipping, and sliding around the stretch of alley behind the buildings. The music that the thunder and rain provide drown out the patter of her bare feet on the cobblestone while the darkness swallows her small form, nearly disappearing her if not for the flash of the lightning illuminating the pale dancing figure in white.
The rain will soon lighten, the lightning will move away, and people will return to their beds or their chairs, but as far as the world is concerned for those few moments, Vanessa doesn’t exist anywhere at all. It's as free as she'll ever be. ]
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dance in the rain }
It’s gone when she wakes—forgotten. Now Vanessa only hears the clatter of the thunder again, and she looks to see her book on the floor. Leaving it behind, she can’t help but be drawn to where the storm rings loudest through the halls, and there she finds one of the kitchen windows still open. Nobody had thought it would rain today, after all, and no matter if it was winter, Vanessa liked the cold.
But the sugar has gotten wet.
After hurrying to shut the window, she catches the flash of lightning just as it strikes one of the other buildings—one might even call them manses—further down the courtyard. It’s enough for the ground to tremble. The sound rattles her bones. It's an invitation. She doesn’t rush out front to see the commotion several houses down, though, instead seizing the opportunity while neighbors are unlikely to spy. Enjoying the rain on her own will look strange enough, but being caught in her robe and night shift might be a step too far in this neighborhood.
Rarely does she get the opportunity to play outside, and she wastes no time in spinning, skipping, and sliding around the stretch of alley behind the buildings. The music that the thunder and rain provide drown out the patter of her bare feet on the cobblestone while the darkness swallows her small form, nearly disappearing her if not for the flash of the lightning illuminating the pale dancing figure in white.
The rain will soon lighten, the lightning will move away, and people will return to their beds or their chairs, but as far as the world is concerned for those few moments, Vanessa doesn’t exist anywhere at all. It's as free as she'll ever be. ]