Lament Shower Novels & Stories

Steam fogged the glass chambers. Clara remained there longer than she had intended. She let the warm shower hit her body, her head tilted forward as the water soaked her hair, flowing down her skin. Her hands traced over her arms, washing away the last remnants of her makeup and inside her, she hoped it would wash away the pains, the shame. But before she knew it, the sob returned. This one was different, deeper. She sank to the floor of the shower. She pulled her legs together, curling herself into a tight ball at the corner. The water poured and soaked her as it filled the chambers. Her shoulders trembled as she hugged her knees, whispering to herself through gritted teeth.

With a nod, Shanaya disappeared into the bathroom. As she stood under the cold cascade of water, tears streamed down her face, mingling with the flowing water. Time seemed to slip away as she silently wept, allowing her emotions to pour out in the sanctuary of the shower stall. The sound of the water provided a gentle cover for her sorrow.

He carried her into the warm embrace of the shower where water poured over skin and sorrow alike. Steam curled and danced around them, crafting a sanctuary from all that lay outside the falling droplets. Their hands moved slowly, reverently exploring one another - rediscovering the familiar while embracing the new vulnerability born of reunion. As water traced their forms, healing whispered softly between them, carrying the promise of tomorrow and every day that would follow. The warm cascade enveloped them in its ethereal glow, and Lena’s breath faltered as joy and relief overwhelmed her. Tears, delicate and luminous, fell silently down her cheeks—tears born of pain eased, hope rekindled.

The view is almost nostalgic, like a scene from an old movie. Maybe it’s not so bad. I decide too soon. Within seconds, the drizzle turns into a downpour. People scatter for shade. Fuck this. I find a quiet corner in the back of the venue to cry. I know I’m going to ruin my makeup, but I don’t care. If I don’t ruin it, the rain will. I sit there in the shadows, letting eight months of pent-up emotion pour out in silent sobs. The door creaks open. Footsteps.

She watched as Lily left the room, the door closing softly behind her. Alone in the bathroom, Bella turned on the shower and waited for the water to reach the right temperature. She undressed slowly, still reeling from the emotional rollercoaster of the past night. The hot water cascading over her felt soothing, like a gentle touch to her weary soul. Under the warm stream, Bella let her tears mingle with the water, letting the sadness and frustration wash away. She lathered up with her favourite shower gel, the familiar scent providing a touch of comfort. With each pass of the soap, she was slowly but surely piecing herself back together.

Stepping inside the shower, I take a moment to look at the handles wondering just how hard it is to turn a shower on until I finally manage to get the damned contraption working. Instantly, warm water sprays onto my body, surprising me before I find myself enjoying the warmth and relax. My mind wanders to everything I have been through from waking up in the slums, the many nights I spent searching for shelter and warmth while staving. How a man took me under his wing and taught me to steal to survive. All of this to end up with me being the Princess of Nimairene whose memories have yet to all return. My body starts to shake as I slide along the titled wall and to my knees as my tears finally

Azura As the rain falls relentlessly from the somber clouds above, my feet carry me through the quiet rows of headstones in the cemetery. Each droplet seems to echo the rhythm of my heart, heavy with sorrow and longing as my own teardrops stream down my cheeks. I stand before my father's grave, the damp earth beneath my shoes reminding me of the fragility of the situation I was in. With a trembling hand, I trace the letters of his name engraved on the weathered stone, feeling the weight of loss settle upon my shoulders once more.

Damn flu. The shower’s spray washed away a fair amount of fear and a not inconsiderable amount of nausea, thank God. Wash, wash, wash everything away, all the pain, the exhaustion, the confusion, and the grief. Grief for what she’d wanted with Mike and Dylan, for what they could be doing right now, for losing Mike’s shy smile, Dylan’s jaunty one, for missing out on the New England fall with them, for what could be.

The shards embedded on her soles pierced every step that she took. Cent stopped in her tracks when she reached the end of her supposed balcony. Gone were the railings that she liked. The harsh raindrops welcomed her face as she looked up. The zaps of lightning illuminated the darkened hill, letting her see the catastrophe that was transpiring just outside her bedroom. Four silhouettes were seen after a zap of lightning flashed right behind the House of Lamentation. “So this is all the ruckus is about? My room got destroyed because of those fucking angels. It is the angels, again.” Cent muttered under her breath. Biting the insides of her cheeks, Cent could taste her blood.

**SCARLETT'S POV** I stand in the shower, letting the scalding heat of the water wet my hair and warm up my entire body. The tears in my eyes falling more rapidly than the water from my shower head. I am exhausted; drained; just in need of exactly this - crying in the shower.