Darkened skies drift overhead, heavy clouds roiling against an empty backdrop.  Grey is torn by violent cracks of light; air is stretched tight with electricity, crackling like static through the evening.

The heavens break, their power of imprisonment over what dwells within crumbling.  Water falls in torrents, melting dirt, soaking grass, impacting river, streaming down her skin.

She extends her hand, shining rain running over her trembling palm, dripping down her outstretched fingers.

The wind torments her hair, water plastering the strands against her bare shoulders.

The river before her churns white, raging against the captivity of the banks.  Rain beats down on the surface of the angry water.

Her eyes survey the dark skies, lips speaking questions, breath escaping in a ragged scream, raising her voice to the heavens.  The clouds drift on.  The wind is indifferent.  The whisper of the rain isn’t response enough.

There’s no one listening.

She sweeps her eyes across the landscape surrounding her, as if waiting for something.  Long moments drift past.  The wind ruffles the grass under her bare feet.  She turns once more to face the boiling river, her tears mingling with the rain running down her cheeks, water lost in water.

Lightning splits the sky above, illuminating the world in one frozen moment of time.  She closes her eyes, letting the water rush over her toes, past her ankle.

Lightning cracks the air once more, thunder echoing darkly, lighting up the raging water of the river, the falling rain suspended in time, the empty bank.

There’s no one watching.

Maybe there never was.