Julian Emery Brown

It's raining outside, the heavy droplets of water creating mud on the moor-roads, turning the gardens into mushy squishy mazes of wet earth. The water sits on the hedges, biding its time until too much water collects, and the drops slide down. The whole estate is a gray mist of moisture. The gates have been closed. The flowerpots have been brought in for fear of them being drowned. In the middle of the road, right next to the willow tree, a man is struggling in the mud. His foot is stuck, but he soon frees it and scurries for the cover of the front door.

Julian does not see this, though.

He is blind.

He sat at an open window, smelling the unique smell of heaven-sent moisture, hearing it's rhythmic music. He heard the faint squish as the man trudged up the hill, the barely audible swear as the man's foot was caught in the mud. He head the sucking squishes resume. If he shifted his hand a little closer to the window, he could feel the in-and-out of the air as the room and the rain breathed together. He could feel the soft misting of the rain as it landed and splattered outward onto his awaiting skin.

There was a faint smile on Julian's lips. He loved the rain. Not only for the miraculous smell of it, the strange sensation of so many gentle pinpricks of fleeting touch, but because Julian had studied biology with his tutor, Mr Jymes. Julian had learned that water was the source of all life; that long ago in the primordial soup life sprang into being, a scientific improbability, unbelievability and  miracle. Water continued that miracle, restoring systems and nurturing its children, it's charges. Whenever water poured from the sky like this, Julian couldn't help thinking that water was showing affection to it's creations. He felt like the water was saying, "Hello, there. You looked like you could use a little pick me up. Care for a drink?" He knew it was silly as a budding scientist to personify water that way, but give him a break. He was only twelve.

"Master Julian?" Mrs Graham called, "Master Julian!"

The aging lady burst into the drawing room, skirts flying. "Ah. There you are." She straightened herself and strode over to the boy. She slammed the window down and he startled. "You shouldn't have the window open. You'll catch your death. We've been looking all over for you."

"I'm sorry."

She grabbed his arm and yanked him to his feet. "Don't be sorry. Just come along; you're late for your piano lesson."

Julian sighed as Mrs. Graham towed him out of the room. Lucky that she thought he was capable of walking as soon as they were in the hallway. His arm hurt. He could hear her trooping down the hall and was quick to follow.

She stopped about 20ft down, past three doors on the right, he knew, and held a door open. He reached a hand out to the wall and turned on his heel when he touched the door frame. Mrs. Graham slammed it behind him.

"Hello, son."