Memories In The Rain Bleach Novels & Stories

****† RALI Standing at the balcony, watching the rain spill from the sky did something to my mind. The world blurred into silver streaks, and for a moment, my thoughts followed each falling drop like it was a memory being washed out of me. Every splash felt like a replay of my life hitting the ground and shattering. The door opened behind me and that distinct smell hit me; the one that had always belonged to him. Being back at his house had helped strengthen my memories in a lot of ways. The missing pieces were stitching themselves together whether I wanted them to or not.

tanong bigla ng isang malalim na boses sa tabi niya. “I'm thinking about the rain..” wala sa wisyo niyang sagot habang nakatulala pa rin sa ulan. “Why?” tanong pa nito sakaniya. “Because.. somehow the rain reminds me of him.” “Him? Who's him?” “The guy I lost..” sambit niya habang dahan dahang lumilingon sa tabi niya.

The rain on the western ridge did not merely fall; it drove sideways, a relentless sheet of freezing highland water that turned the peat and heather into a thick, clinging mire. Tala stood perfectly motionless at the absolute precipice of the ridge, her feet dug firmly into the ancient earth. The storm howled around her, ripping at her clothes, but her spun-copper hair seemed to dance with a life of its own, vibrant against the dark, bruising gray of the sky. Her icy blue eyes were fixed on the valley below, tracking the glowing halogen headlights of Malakai’s heavy excavation armor as the machinery slowly ground its way toward the first sacred threshold.

I think there's a bag of cement around here. My stomach churns as we rummage through the warehouse in search of the lime. Every move makes me want to vomit. And the flashes from last night keep coming back. Fragmented. Connecting and falling apart before I can fully understand. I remember a boy. Handsome, tall, brown-eyed, blond. Then I remember the two of us running. Then the taste of blood in my mouth. His screams. And then the blackout. I woke up to the rain. For the first time, I thanked the Georgian rain. It had refreshed me. I dragged myself home and started cleaning everything on automatic. I scrubbed so hard that I hurt my fingers.

“Uh, I couldn’t tell how tall he was because he was in the chair the whole time. Taller than me, I’m sure. I think I might’ve picked… 28D? No, maybe it was 34P. I can’t remember.” Gale let out a hot breath that resembled her name. “How can you not remember?” “I don’t know. I’ve been through a traumatic experience. It’s hard to recall a lot of the details. I spent most of my time looking at the door, waiting for someone to let me out.” “Ugh, you’re no fun.” Breeze tossed her pillow at Rain, and she laughed, knowing she was joking around. Rain tossed it back to her. “Your one chance to see a naked man with the lights on, and you blew it.”

Rain cascaded heavily, drumming against the glass. “It’s just rain” I said, confused. Ezra leaned casually against the wall, his smirk growing wider. “Not just rain, my dear. ‘Rain’. Think about it” My brow furrowed as I tried to connect the dots. “Rain... What does rain have to do with...?” My voice trailed off, and suddenly, my eyes widened. A memory surfaced, Rain, the kind and gentle nurse who had taken care of my mother during her illness. “Rain!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet.

I will, Adrian. My last memory of you… I would never forget it.

I reached for the memory of the **First Day**. The memory of the little girl in the hospital bed, dreaming of a world that was better than the one she was dying in. I projected that memory into the void. The grey static didn't just flicker; it **Blushed**. The "Hollow" space inside Jax began to fill with the color of 1998. The smell of hospital antiseptic, the sound of a heart monitor, the warmth of a mother’s hand before she became a Director. The Obsidian-Glitch shrieked as the "Raw Humanity" of the memory began to "Corrupt" her silver wires. She couldn't handle the "Inconsistency" of a child’s fear.

"Your description of the weather is inaccurate." "It was raining, Cale. It's always raining in my memories of you." "On that specific date," Cale tapped the page, "the barometric pressure was stable. It was overcast. Stratus clouds. No precipitation." "Rain sets the mood." "Rain is a variable. If it was not raining, the friction coefficient on the sidewalk was normal. If you write rain, you imply slippage risk." "It's a memoir, not a police report." "Memory should be precise," Cale insisted. "Alex deserves precision."