When It Pours It Rains Novels & Stories

It was wet July, how the heavy rain was that day; as if the taps in the sky had been turned on by the hand of whoever made the weather. In no time the city had become a mass of miniature rivulets. One could hardly believe that a few hours before, this same area had been completely dry. That morning water poured from the sky, deeming the sun which was struggling to come out, until the earth could absorb no more, and people thought the earth itself was now oozing water out as well. The heavy downpour blurred the windscreen of rushing drivers, parking off to avoid accidents. Daring pedestrians on large rain coats and umbrellas moonwalked through the street littered with wastes wash out but the

The heavy door slammed shut, the click of the lock sounding like a final judgment. Then, the sky broke. Rain began to fall, heavy and sudden, soaking into my clothes and drenching my bags within seconds. I stood there, shivering as the water blurred my vision, fighting with everything in me not to let a single tear fall. It was deep into the night, the estate quiet except for the rhythmic drumming of the downpour.

Maybe if I focused on counting my steps, I wouldn’t cry. One … two … three … Suddenly the sky looked heavy, like it wanted to rain, “oh god please not today” I whispered Then it did, it seems my prayers fell to the ground, a scold drop hit my cheek. Just one at first. Then another. Then lots more. The skies opened fully, and the rain fell in sheets thick enough to drown me and whatever I had left on today. Paint dripped down my neck in colorful streams, mixing with the rain, sticky and cold as it glued my shirt to my skin.

Hailey Park. If there’s one thing K-dramas have taught me, it’s this: Rain = feelings. The heavier the downpour, the more chaotic your love life is about to become. And right now, Seoul looks like it just got dumped by the universe. Sheets of rain slam against the office windows, thunder growling like background music to my impending breakdown. Which, let’s be honest, is fitting — because my boss has just said the six words no assistant wants to hear on a stormy Tuesday afternoon:

Just as I was about to turn around, the sky rumbled and in seconds, it started to rain. Heavy, pouring rain.

Althea The day I moved into some apartment I rented impulsively, it had rained. Not a cinematic kind of rain; the poetic kind that makes you feel reborn or something melodramatic like that. No. It was just grey and annoying, the kind that soaked through your sweater before you realized it and turned cardboard boxes soggy at the edges.

Which isn’t for another few nights. It’s a drab Monday; the sky is grey and the rain is coming down. It’s the heavy kind of drizzle that clings to your skin and dampness in the air. Usually, I love a bit of rain, everything looks greener and it’s a good excuse to curl up with a good book and a comfy blanket when I’ve finished a shift.

Hazel trudged along the wet pavement, her school bag heavy on her shoulders as the rain poured down relentlessly. The sky was a dark shade of gray, and the sound of raindrops hitting the ground filled the air. Hazel's hair was plastered to her face, and her clothes clung to her skin, soaked through by the downpour. As she walked, Hazel couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration. She had forgotten to bring an umbrella that morning, thinking that the weather forecast had predicted a sunny day. But now, she was regretting her oversight as she battled against the elements on her way home from school.