The Lonely Ride to the Orphanage on a Rainy Night

It was dark. Cold invaded once the sun had set, and soon cloudy skies brought forth the vicious and fierce rain.

He was worried - very indeed. His heartbeat escalated with each droplet pounding the roof of the vehicle. Two figures seated in front of him were silent, they looked to the front without much motion, except for occasional hand movements to ease their itch.

Beyond the window, it was the same darkness. His vision couldn't make out anything, he felt vulnerable, with the darkness gnawing into every inch of his visibility. He feared that the blackened teeth would sink into his flesh, spilling his swelling agitation out.

Smog from vehicles and the creeping abyss of the night masked the raindrops. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was there through his faithful ears. The Rhythm of the Damp, yes he remembered, the unpredictive orchestrated downpour. And it showed no sign of arriving to an interlude or end, and the unending climatic buildup could pull his bladder trigger any moment.

The figures in front were still, as usual - if not for some mild conversations, it's all about staring into the blank. The man behind the wheel penetrated his vision beyond the dark, and his determination seemed unfaltered.

Orphans that he had met raced through his mind, Could it be that orphanage? Or maybe that...? He saw the children welcome him with open hands, despite he was taller, better dressed and well-built than most of them. An accident scene from his memory jolted his deep reverie. The missed sound of the rain revoked the familiar feeling of depression and tears-choking that he was caught into without realisation.

They had reached the place - but no children, no playground - only buildings with more than ten storeys high. He climbed down from the van relieved, slightly dazed.

He bade his parents farewell. The lady beside the man nodded her head and gave him a smile he would remember and cherish all his life - he was delighted of course. The raindrops continued to submerge into his hair and clothes, and his bags - he was covered with dark smudges of wetness everywhere.

He stood there, partially soaked, until the backlights disappeared from his sight. Still hidden from his naked eyes, the increased volume of the downpour channeled his worries deep further into his heart. The same images of the accident conjured in his mind again, but only this time, it was a wrecked and crumpled dark blue van. His worries soon clung to fear, wrapped by guilt. He shivered - he felt after all he was in an orphanage.

The sound of the rain pummeling at the zinc attap convinced him that.