Have You Ever Seen the Rain?

The sun had started to go down as Julius had left. He had been behind the entrance viewing the sunset, when a woman had come through the exit and yelled at the man. Julius, with years of training, moved quietly across the gravel covered roof and slipped back down the stairs. He did not feel like interrupting the two. Julius had learned to stay out of other peoples' fights, especially when those people were seemingly innocent citizens.

Nature couldn't make up her mind. The sunset shone a fiery crimson across the sky in the far west, while blackened clouds marched towards the city. The night would witness a battle of the elements.

Julius exited the building and started towards the field behind the deck. He was making his way towards the forest, well the small group of tree's the city had preserved. Julius enjoyed the sound of the rain falling through the trees. 

On his way, Julius ran into what seemed to be the Occupy movement of the city. He knew that the movement had been spreading nationwide, he was up-to-date with any event worldwide, thanks to the shiny, black television, but surprised that it had reached this backwater town. 

Julius took an oblique angle to pass the field without coming too close. He did not want to become engaged in some protesters rant about the government, religion or some ambiguous idea. Julius had fought for the government in place, he may disagree with some of its decisions ,but nonetheless he was it's protector. He had been raised an Episcopalian, but knew that the 99.99% of the universe was the way it was due to 

science. Julius knew these things about himself because a soldier has to hold onto something to get through everything. He didn't need some hipster, too-cool-for-school pothead telling him what he needed to do.

What he wanted was silence. To hear the rain and feel the water run across his face. Living in the city was restricting. Julius grew up on acres of land, not square footage. 

He heard the rain before he felt it. A slight rustle, like wet leaves. Steadily the rustle grew louder until it reached a cacophony of dripping faucets. With a loud crack, thunder shook the trees and lightning illuminated the forest. Julius stood in admiration of the storm. He turned and went back to the apartment.

The city flashed in and out of darkness. The alleys and streets echoed with the banging from above. People were scurrying around, trying to find cover. It hit Julius like a floodwater. The memories. The sounds. The people. Mortars going off around him. It was too much. He snapped. 

Julius got to the garage of Castle Apartments. He knew that the security was lax in the garage, where the fuel was stored. He entered, found a Toyota pick-up and easily hot-wired it. With the engine running, Julius loaded up the back of the truck with 7-5 gallon gasoline containers. He also threw a twelve pack of beer, some ice, a red plastic cup, a radio, a lawn chair, and a lighter.

On his way back, Julius shouted a "your welcome" to a man who entered Sawmill theater, he had been adoring Julius's handiwork. 

In 30 minutes, Julius had the plastic cup in one hand, sitting on the roof next to the man who slept up here.

"Isn't it a pretty sight?" Julius said.

The sky was black as coal with a massive fire warming the clouds belly. 

Down to the River to Pray

     Sighing with both relief and weariness, Julius flipped on the sleek, black television. The TV was the nicest thing in all of apartment 303. The bare necessities satisfied Julius, but he spent a lot of time in front of a screen, so he reasoned he should spend time in front of a nice one. A photograph, roughly the size of a post-it, of a light, brown haired woman in her late twenties with sharp, grey eyes appeared on the foreground of some Middle Eastern background; the news crawl informing anyone who knew Arabic about the woman. Julius didn't know Arabic, but he knew the woman, Penelope.
     Seeing the photograph reminded Julius of a line Penelope used to recite, "It is not your fate to fall at my hands," he put his face in his hands as the line ran through his head. "It seems that the opposite has befallen on me," thought Julius as he removed his head from his hands to change the channel.
     The sun had started to cast a glare on the screen. When searching for a place to live, he required west facing windows, and only room 303 had such windows. Julius preferred sunsets, the calmness to the day ending, rather than the harsh, bright beginning of the day. He also enjoyed the way the sunset would turn the city's hills into rolling sand dunes, taking him to another place and time.
     He couldn't sit still any longer. The line was on a loop in his head. He needed to hear someone talk, as he checked the time, Julius made his way to the Church that was right around the block.
     Julius entered through the side door. He didn't want to bother anyone by coming through the main doors, the service had begun five minutes ago. As he walked through the mud room, his foot struck what seemed to be a pile of rags.
     "Watch it!" The rags grumbled.
     "Sorry," mumbled Julius. He dropped a few coins into the copper bowl sitting next to the rags as another apology.
     "True, it is not your fate to fall at my hands," shouted the rags.
     Julius froze. "Damn that line, will it never leave me. I don't even know where it's from..." he whispered. As Julius walked out the door and into the service he heard, "Oedipus Rex."

Home

      The day started with Julius waking up, just as the sun turns the sky gray, for his usual run. As he walks down the hall, Julius hears the muffled whoosh of fans from his neighbors apartment even though its dawn. Running has always helped him get over a restless nights sleep. There is something cleansing about sweat.
     Once home, Julius lays on the cool concrete floor. Even though he's on the third floor, he removed the stained carpet, concrete is easier to clean. He doesn't have to work today. Mom gave him the day off. He hadn't had a day off in months. He wasn't really sure what to do. His stomach grumbled a bit. With nothing in the fridge, Julius strolled down to Casa D' Waffles. He missed his normal place, seated at the counter with a cup of coffee and eggs fried over medium on buttered white toast. All he had eaten for three months was chicken beat paper thin so it seemed like more food than it actually was.
     Mulling over his cup of coffee, Julius tried planning out his day. He couldn't help himself, he never had empty time. He figured that he could at least watch some t.v. There was bound to be something on, and if not a couple of beers would numb the boredom.