Acid Rain by R.D Rhodes (ebook reader txt) 📕

my hospital room ceiling that I was looking up at. But I didn’t want to think about that. It felt soothing, even therapeutic, and I felt so protected by my shelter and the trees that kept out the worst of the storm, that I didn’t want to taint my mind by going back to that negative place.

Will Harry be walking in this right now? Or will he have found shelter? No! Stop it! He will be okay.

I brought my hands together. I asked God to keep him safe, and if he was willing, could he make the weather good for him?

I finished my prayer. Five minutes later, the downpour suddenly stopped. Instantly, like someone had flicked a switch. I smiled in astonishment.

I was finally able to peel open the curtain door. I shook it out and pushed it up on top of the tent, then I took a cup and scooped out the puddle. It was stunning out there. Nature was putting on a new show- shining sunbeams down from the sky to begin. The forest woke up, the birds chimed louder than ever their jubilant songs. The branches dripped melodically onto the roof and the bracken, and the world was interspersed with bright light mixed-in with the atmospheric grey. The air was fresh and sweet. It was almost as if the storm had been deliberately blasted against the land in order to give it new life. This really is what calm after the storm means, I thought.

I contemplated going out, but the ground was soaking, and the inviting, toasty warmth of the sleeping bag was too much to resist. I nestled myself in, lulled by the sounds of the forest.

Chapter 50

M y face felt fuzzy, like it was covered in cobwebs, but when I wiped them off with my hand there was nothing there. I couldn’t see any spiders in the tent either. Strange, I thought.

I sat up. My insides felt full of energy. I felt supercharged. It must have been a good sleep.

I put on my boots and stepped out into the drenched ground. Judging by the sky, there was only a few hours of light left. I circled the tent. Droplets clung to the sides, but it was standing as strong as ever. “You are fucking brilliant!” I said out loud, and I pinched the tarp and shook out the remaining moisture.

I went back to the fireplace. I really did feel full of energy, not just in my insides but all over. I couldn’t place why or how that was. Maybe this is what Harry felt? I wondered. Anyway, what should I do? The day is coming to an end, and I don’t want to have wasted it.

I laced my boots and jogged down the hill. The resinous, piney aroma smelled fantastic. I ran down to the bridge me and Harry had went to, and I jogged up the same way. The river was crazy, running so much faster. The rapids thrashed savagely, foaming white all the way down. I jogged up by the whirlpool and the falls beneath me, my boots squelching through the yellow leaves and mud. What are you playing at? a voice popped into my head, Sleeping during the day, when you could have been doing something? You’ve wasted your time. But that nap felt good. And I couldn’t do anything in the rain anyway.

I jogged back by the sixty-foot drop, stopped for a break, then carried on to the bridge, trying to burn off some of the excess energy. My stomach started to rumble. I hadn’t eaten anything apart from a little porridge in the morning. I had thought it best not to eat too much, just in case Harry didn’t come back for a while, or didn’t come back at all. Maybe that’s why my body feels like this? I considered. Especially my head. Though I felt full of energy, I also felt airy and light.

I ran along the right-hand side of the loch. The sun was poking through, and the land was awash in all its resplendent colours. But all too quickly a cloud pulled across and blocked out all the light. The glen turned back to greyness. What power a cloud has! I thought.

I picked up the pace and then sprinted about three hundred meters, until I couldn’t physically run anymore, and I reduced myself to a walk with my hands on my hips. Raindrops started to fall again, landing on the loch with reverberating ripples. I gazed along the shoreline in front of me, at the stones, brush bushes and lapping water as my boot heels crunched in the dampening gravel. I imagined seeing women, branded as witches, being drowned by church prosecutors on lochs like this, while the villagers screamed curses at them in mass crowds at the waterside. I pictured some of those women getting dragged out of the water, then hung on stakes and set fire to. And more images followed. I saw crannogs in the loch and smoke rising out from their thatched roofs, then men in ragged clothing fishing and swimming, and groups of people building and rowing in boats. I pictured women and children collecting water in jugs. Then for some reason, a Burns poem started singing in my head, “When a body meet a body coming through the rye. Sure a body meet a body coming through the rye.” Where have I heard that from? Why is that in my head?

You’ve probably heard it somewhere, I thought. Who reminded you? Maybe it’s a connection from thinking about witches? Tam o Shanter, that’s it- the Burns poem about witches! I remembered. Then from that to Coming through the Rye. That must be it. “When drouthy neighbors neighbors meet, honest men and bonnie lasses.” The songs continued. My ears were ringing with them, “Ride fast Tam! Wee sleekit, cowrin timrous beastie.”

Jesus, I can’t go on like this.