A Midnight Hunger

The heat stifled me, so I went to sleep. No one expects rain in this kind of summer heat; it is too hot to welcome rain.

I tossed and turned. I’d feel sticky if I remained in one position. The man beside me snores and moans, snores and complains. I don’t blame him. Men are meant to generate heat.

The night deepens; the sky an intense inky black. I can see no moon.

I wonder why.

I mused a little while…

Then I closed my eyes and I was in paradise, but I heard a grumble… overhead… from god-knows-where. The magnitude of the sound reverberated through the thick cemented walls. It was like the sound of a famished tummy – a humongous protesting belly- vastly amplified.

I opened my eyes – alert! Everything is black.

Flicker ! Flicker!… then a flash of light beheld through the window. Certainly, there isn’t anybody taking our picture! Such would be a scandalous affair of a couple in night clothes … no… not even! Almost naked, I daresay. Picture a fleshy and undignified entangling and enmeshing.

There is a waft of air all of a sudden – a bit of a breezy puff from an omnipotent source. I should be afraid and think of supernatural things. But I almost thanked God for the relief – the momentary mitigation of  a deadly heat. I regarded the man beside me through eyes that have adjusted to darkness… still sound asleep – still snoring… still benumbed to the world around him – to the sporadic rushing in of light… to the slow rumble building up in the heavens…

The starved grumbling sound again. This time, I am certain it emanated from the skies. There was a boom, too. What an odd combination: a grumble, a boom… then a crash! A deafening crashing sound! The skies roared and grumbled more. The resonance too great, sending off the thief-alarm of  our neighbor’s Ford.

Is there such a thing as a hungry thunderstorm?

Such hunger, it seemed… such need… it has to feed!

I bent folded my body like a fetus… lest it finds me to devour.

Then, a throng of a thousand furious hands smashing and clashing.  It started to rain.  Thank God it rained! Pitter-patter said the rain. “I’m going to wash this filthy world again.” I smiled in relief. I unfolded myself and spread my arms and limbs and other extremities like a Starfish.

I’ve read somewhere that the sound of rain lulls one’s senses to sleep.

Pitter-patter… pitter-patter…
savor the breeze; it’s now or never…
pitter-patter… pitter-patter…
here’s my gift, a free cold shower…

Never mind the sound of a thousand glasses that shatter…

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