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It had been raining for seven years; thousands upon thousands of days compounded and filled from one end to the other....

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Today was a as monotonous as ever. The windscreen wipers scraped hurriedly against the screen, furiously wiping away at the ricocheting and cascading drops. Along the paths, umbrellas huddled together like penguins huddling against the bitter cold. Occasionally a red umbrella sheepishly poked out of the sea of black then dodged back down, becoming enveloped by the shuffling crowds and the satisfyingly pitter patter of the rain, gradually turning into something more turbulent, whipping and thrashing like whips crackling at every brutal hit.
The sardonic clouds grinned with mirth as they unleashed their wrath upon the city, surging and swelling carpets of water flowed and claimed every crevice of every street. The ground heaved and shook under the pressure of the torrent of water as feet waded through pushing and forcing their way to their destination.

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The sun hid its face for years and years. I hoped that I could one day feel the suns warm rays. The sky was painted grey and the clouds thundered rain onto the ground.Umbrellas looked like a vast forest that stretched on for miles. The rush and chatter of voices muffled by the sound of the heavy rain. The wispy clouds hung low in themundane ,dark sky.Flashes of an onimous is light.Lightning.Thunder.

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The ashy clouds hid the sun for years, not letting a single peep through. Dull umbrellas looked like a vast sea with occasional red umbrellas bobbing up and down like a fish before disappearing into the darkness.

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Today was no different. The rain pattered every single day in our box. We lived in a society where children and adults were separated like cows in a cow pen. No one was allowed meet each other. The rain always pattered like rain was never going to come back but it did every single day. Honestly I think the sun doesn’t rise sometimes.

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Children hung over their desks, looking mournfully out of the foggy window, misted with condensation. I caught sight of the corner of a carefully inked sun, peeking out from underneath the creased pages of an exercise book. My own page was empty, hungry for words and drawings. It could not be satisfied. I could no longer draw, my memories of the sun, beaches and smiling children had faded over time, and had been replaced with damp days and thunderstorms. I had been swallowed up by the present, a mess of grey and flashes of bright white. I had forgotten.

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…endless other. I watched as the raindrops raced down the window. The dark rain clouds cackled maliciously as it forced me inside with more and more rain. It was and infinite void rain , rain and more rain.
.

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Today was the same as ever. Cold, murky and miserable. What a surprise. Everyone stood in silence with no hope left in sight.

There was nothing left to say.

The town was engulfed in a ominous blanket of water, larger than the Pacific Ocean. Anyone who dared step into it would be killed immediately.

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Rain thundered down onto my umbrella as I pushed through the a sea of people. That day, like every other day, I had woken up to find ominous, grey clouds staring down at me, rain as sharp as daggers shooting down from the sky and thunder cackling outside my window. I had woken to this every day for the last ten years. I hoped someday I would feel the sun on my face again.

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Today was no different. Heavy, thundering rain crashed down onto the gloomy pavement. All you could see from above this town was hundreds of pale faces if people shivering from the rain. The malicious clouds bellowed down onto the city below. Like jaguars people rushed through the streets trying to find shelter.

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Nothing ever changed. There was a distant memory of yellow sunshine and blue skies with tiny pastry puffs of cloud, this lone thought floated above the crowds of umbrellas, hopefully searching for a hint of light in the almost black sky. Yet no one let the thought in no one dared to remember, to let themselves hope that the rain and the flooding and death would one day end. They didn’t want to get let down again, Children trudged to school wondering if when they got home their houses would be filled with water and their family gone. Adults tried to bring home enough food for everyone, even with the crumbling economy, old ladies lay shivering in wet apartment blocks, isolated from the rest of the world. People prayed, people wished, yet the sky stayed the same stormy colour eventually crushing all hope anyone had left. And eventually people stopped paying attention to hope, people stopped wishing.

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The empty streets were flooded, and people looked out of their windows, shaking their head and saying “It’s just like all the other days.” By now, no - one expected the heavy downpour to ever end, although there were dreamers and hopers.
Everyone knew the routine. Light shower in the morning, but by noon, the storm would crush a man. Long, gloomy hours were spent staring at a blank wall and mumbling under their breath. This was, and had been, the life for a long,long time

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Today was the same as always rain pitter-pattering from the sky, umbrellas shooting upwards and black coats getting wet. Our city was a dull city but the rain made it even duller. I looked at my watch and I saw I was running late to school. I started sprinting.

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We thought we would never see daylight again,  it was as if we had forgotten what happiness was. Did the weather outside control us, I don’t believe a went a day without crying then, no one did. “The worst is over now,” they said. Liars. Total liars. All I could do was hope, hope for sunny skies, hope for everyone to be happy again. It was useless. Utterly useless. It felt like a monster was drowning us in its misery to make it happy, yet it would frustrate him more.

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Rain thrashed in through the open window at the back of the dimly-light classroom. I trembled under my desk, leaning against the rough wall. The once white paint had peeled off leaving only the remains and patches of dark grey paint. Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder and the whole room eerily lit up like the silvery moon on a dark night. The wind was a whipping, turbulent tornado.

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1. People move in tight groups, packed together like sardines in a tin, desperately trying to maintain their body temperature. Occasionally a small flashing light would peep out of the endless ocean of umbrellas. And as soon as it came up, the light would return to its hiding spot. Everyone thought that they were living in a normal world, that all that had happened was a natural catastrophe. However, in an old, abandoned warehouse overlooking the city,Colin Servile would peer down at the crowd, at the flashing light and wonder if there was something more malicious about the pouring rain…

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Days were same old, same old. Rain cascaded down like demons descending on Earth. It slashed hard at hurrying passers-by, trying to keep their dark umbrellas upright in the billowing wind in hope that it would shield them from the unyielding knives flying from the sky. The clouds congregated in large black groups, whispering their cruel plans on where else to take out the wrath

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Today felt like an eternity that I had been trapped in as long as I can remember . The teacher droned on, making my head feel like it was closing in on me, about to burst at any moment. The other children around me related to my situation, all listening to the same monotonous voice. The rain pattered gently outside our classroom window, the same sounds I had heard for far too long

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sharp tear drops of glass, dark, intimidating swarms of clouds swallowing the sky. Years have gone by with no site of the big blue sheet that humanity knows as the sky. Fog engulfing and blurring the streets like rubber erasing our society.

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A red umbrella closes as a figure entered the slender building. As always the rain and all the gloom that is born through the weather faded into the dark tinted windows. She walked past the meeting rooms as everyone stared at her. Different. That's what she is. Why should she in when she's born to stand out.

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lizzy

I’ve been around in this — barely populated town for a while now, I know every nook and cranny of these world-record worth long boulevards and streets.

The deep puddles here are so deep that I suspect that someone might as well go fishing in here. With their boat and fishing hook or whatever.

This town has been famous for being scarred with long filled floods and and I don’t suspect any tourists here any time soon.

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My soaked paws drowned into a puddle the size of the Pacific Ocean like a child learning how to swim as my tired legs scraped against the slippery road like an ice rink.

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Rain was pouring down, heavily, onto the roof of umbrellas that covered the streets. The sky was enveloped in a sea of greys, all light was blocked, and there was a sodden smell across the city. Splattering onto the plain pavement, making it a darker shade.

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I, like many others, was used to the drizzle, however it was still amusing to see all the oblivious newcomers wondering when  rain would cease. The locals (such as myself) often called them " pigs in a pen". They always seemed so hopeful and passionate. That was until about a week into their stay.

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Rain splattered against the sea of umbrellas ,which thrashed in the howling wind. People pushed against each other, desperate to get to their destinations before they were late. Every new was feared, people lived in cold and fright, the dread had eaten it’s way in. People slept with uncertainty, hoping that the flood wouldn’t creep into their house.