Nasty Weather

    My feet patter on the stone street of a dark alleyway, cantering to somewhere safe. I assume, they probably found out that I had escaped and were looking for me about now. With each pounding step, I splash in the puddles created by the pouring clouds. They weep with me, I thought watching the individual drops of the tearful sky.
    Being captured had been the most traumatic event of my life, or so I thought, escaping had become its own trial. I just wish to be home right now. Life's been rough enough already. I surprise myself with how sane I’ve been able to stay. Still, the past couple of days had been a nightmare, and I felt unable to distinguish between my imagination and reality.
    I always liked to measure my feelings by the weather. Sunshine equals happiness. The billowing gray clouds are covering the sun, not a ray of sunshine today. Raindrops fall on my face and mix with warm tears. I’m glad it’s raining, no one can notice the salty droplets on my cheek.
    I slow to catch my breath, and lean against a building. Everything in me aches and cracks like the lightning flashing in the distance. Suddenly, I feel a gaze on me.
    “Did you think you could get away?” a deep mocking voice whispers.
    I look around but saw no one.
    “You’ll never escape!”
    Adrenaline pumps through my body and I find my energy to be renewed. I shot off like an arrow. An arrow affected by its surroundings, thrown around by the wind, like an indecisive child, first this way, then that.
    As I attempt to get a hold of myself, I notice a huge double-decker bus. A stray beam of sunlight shot through the clouds and created a tiny rainbow in the distance. I decide that if I can get on the bus, I would be safe. Free from my fear. I dash with all my remaining strength and gasp as the bus begins to pull away from the curb. A cloud pushes its way to close the gap and smother the baby sunbeam.
    I wave my arms ferociously as I near the bus’s door window. The bus driver looks over at me and displays a face that can be read as easy as the page of a child’s book. “Crazy!”
    Was I? I really must look it, soaked to the bone in this black tee shirt and ripped blue jeans with a dusted coating of fresh mud. I look around no one on the street has an umbrella, wasn’t it raining? The sky is still filled with the same disconsolate gray clouds. My feet are numb and I'm about to give up when the driver pulls over.
    I catch up with the bus and place my fare into the box. I nod my thanks to the driver for stopping. He nods back politely from his comfortable seat, warm and dry. I proceed to make my way to the first available seat and sit down.
    “Nasty weather, isn’t it?” asks an older lady next to me, as the bus begins rolling along.
    I laugh in reply, “You have no idea!”