The Origin of Rain

There once was a village in a faraway land.

Its people lived harmoniously off the land, leading happy and fulfilling lives.

Life was vibrant and full of colour, and children played care-freely amidst chirping birds.

But one day, the clouds disappeared from the sky and rain stopped falling upon the land.

The rivers running through the fields dwindled and dried up, leaving nothing for the people to drink.

Soon even the crops began to wilt and shrivel away, causing the people to despair as food ran short.

Eking out everything they could to make it to the next day, the villagers managed to endure.

But no matter how long they held on, the rain did not come.

No matter how much they entreated the heavens, the sky did not hear their prayers.

It was when all hope seemed to be lost that whispers of a heavenly saviour began to spread throughout the village.

Somewhere in the nearby forest where the foliage had remained green and healthy, there was rumoured to be a goddess with miraculous powers--- a goddess blessed with the ability to produce streams of pure, unadulterated water.

Families with no options left clung to this mysterious rumour, searching the forest desperately for the fabled goddess.

Then, one fateful day, a mother whose son was on the verge of death finally encountered the goddess of legend.

However, she was no divine goddess with a heavenly aura.

She was but a little chipmunk of a girl whose head barely peeked above the shrubbery.

“Please, save my child!” The mother begged to the girl with all her heart.

“He won’t respond to me… he hasn’t had anything to drink for days!”

But no matter how much she pled, the girl could not fathom the mother’s words.

Having lived in the forest for all her life, she did not know of language.

However, when the girl saw the boy’s wasted body, she was overcome with great sorrow.

He was suffering, and in great pain.

And so, wishing that the boy wouldn’t die, the girl leaned over him and began to cry.

Big beautiful tears began to drip from the girl’s eyes in unbelievable amounts, trickling through the boy’s parched lips.

Letting him drink tears as clear and pure as the rain that once fell upon the land, the girl pulled the boy back the boundary of life and death.

The smile of a young girl whose face was still wet with tears--- that was the sight the boy opened his eyes to upon being saved from certain death.

Meanwhile, having witnessed a miracle, the mother cried out in gratitude and implored the girl to come back to the village so that she might help others in need.

Unable to comprehend anything though, the girl could only let herself be taken away from her tranquil garden.

Her first exposure to the outside world deeply affected her.

The village she was brought to behold had become but a wasteland of death and decay…immense sorrow filled the girl’s heart at the sight of so many people suffering.

Spreading word of her miraculous life-giving tears, the mother took the girl into her home as if she were one of her own.

Countless came to her doorstep in search of salvation from their unending hell.

The girl wept for every one of them, forsaking none in her boundless compassion.

By drinking up her pristine tears she shed, the people managed to recover from the brink of collapse.

For several weeks, the villagers managed to stave off their deprivation.

But though the tears she wept were enough to quench their theist, their neglected hunger continued to grow by the hour.

People whose lives she had poured her heart out to save began to perish from starvation before long.

In their desperation to survive the villagers were forced to break an unspeakable taboo.

That taboo…was cannibalism.

Those that were unable to defend themselves were the first to go.

The young.

The elderly.

The infirm.

The girl watched on as a baby was ripped from its mother’s arms and devoured by villagers that had lost their minds to hunger.

Neighbours that had stuck with each other through thick and thin began to turn on one another, painting the landscape sickening shades of scarlet.

Those scarlet visions tormented the girl, bringing her such anguish that blood flowed from her eyes as she wept before the village’s withered fields.

It was then that, from the crimson tears that touched the cracked soil, florae began to spring up wondrously from the earth.

Upon witnessing this miracle, the villagers tried to use the girl’s power to nourish their fields.

But though the girl wept torrents throughout the day and night at the villager’s plight, it was never the tears of blood that they needed.

It was in that hopeless situation that the villagers came to a terrible conclusion--- if the girl would not cry tears of blood… they would have to take it from her.

The only way to garner the blood they needed was by cutting into her body and draining it.

A stone shrine atop a hill overlooking the village.

The people locked the girl up there, driving her to a state of perpetual near death as they extracted her blood over and over again.

‘It’s the only way we can survive’ was how they rationalized it.

Whenever it seemed like the girl was becoming numb and crying less as a result, the villagers had no choice to device crueller ways to hurt her.

It was a wretched state of existence in which they could only subsist if the girl’s blood and tears flowed freely.

But even then, the girl never forsook the villagers.

With a smile that grew weaker by the day she continued to cry, thinking only of their sake.

However, her smile did not ease the villagers’ hearts.

They feared it.

Were afraid of it.

Afraid, of what that smile meant--- of what they had become.

And so, they began to chant it.

A curse, or perhaps a prayer to absolve them of their sins.

‘A witch.’

‘She’s a witch.’

‘She’s the reason rain stopped falling upon the land.’

An incorruptible smile that not even layers of blood and tears could blemish.

It was the smile of a witch.

And while there were none that could turn a deaf ear to the girl’s sobs, which trickled without end from the top of the hill… no one spoke of it.

Their throats quenched and their bellies full, the villagers chose to not see, to not hear.

For the land had begun to flourish and regain its colour under the nourishment of the girl’s blessed blood and tears.

At long last, the people had regained a semblance of the peaceful days they once knew.

But there were those who could not accept it.

Back in the house the girl had called home since coming to the village…

The young boy whose life had been saved in the forest asked of his mother:

“Mother, why won’t you drink?”

No matter how many times the boy brought a cup of water to her mouth, the mother would not part her lips.

The family had been haunted by the girl’s tormented cries for many sleepless nights now.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry”

As she lay in bed, she would repeat those words to herself without end.

‘’I should have never brought you to the village…‘’

The mother had come to view the girl as her own child during the time they lived together.

Unable to bear the thought of drinking her daughter’s tears as she was tortured day in and out, the mother had gone without drinking for days.

Now on the verge of dying from thirst, the mother spoke to her son for the final time.

“Please grant your mother one last selfish wish…that girl…”

“Do you mean sis?”

“…Yes. Your sweet, beloved sister…”

The mother grasped her son’s hand tightly as she spoke her final words.

“Please be by her side.”

The boy waited until nightfall to carry out his mother’s dying wish.

Under a moonless, starless sky, he climbed the hill where the girl was being held.

Breaking into the temple from which countless streams cascaded and flowed, the boy was met with a heart-wrenching sight.

The girl’s small figure had once been filled with the vigour of youth.

But now, she was barely recognizable.

From hollow eyes that had endured the darkest of human despair fountains of water were streaming unendingly, serving as the origin of the rivers running outside.

“Sis…sis…”

The boy struggled to release the girl from her restraints.

But it was no use.

Hands the boy had held steady as he taught her how to write--- they were now twisted from ruthless disfigurement.

Wrists the body had made little bracelets for from the flora the girl called forth--- they were now melted with the blood-stained iron shackling her.

The girl stared vacantly at the boy as he continued his futile attempt to free her, unable to understand.

She didn’t want him to be sad.

But he was not hurt or hungry in any way.

He had even grown healthier since the last time they met.

So why? Why was he making such a pained face?

Knowing that the villagers would be back soon, the boy fell to his knees and began to cry.

He didn’t want her to be trapped here any longer.

He didn’t want her to be hurt anymore.

But there wasn’t anything he could do…

That was when he felt a light touch on his chin.

Clanking her chains as she reached out with what remained of her hands, the girl lifted the boy’s head…and began to weakly wipe away his tears.

When his vision cleared, the boy saw that the girl had a beautiful smile on her face.

A smile just like the time she first saved him.

Even when chains had stolen away her freedom, deprivation had wasted her figure, and abuse had dulled the light in her eyes… her smile had not been lost.

More than anything, the boy wanted to protect that smile.

And so, with trembling movements, the boy reached out and slowly wrapped his fingers around the girl’s neck.

Unable to stop himself from crying at the thought of what he was doing, the boy tightened his grip.

But the girl’s smile never left her.

Even as the strength slowly left her body, she did not stop.

Wiping, wiping away his tears… her hand continued to move.

It was only when that hand fell back limply to her side…

… That the boy knew it was over.

Water was no longer flowing from the girl’s eyes, which were loosely shut in a state of peace.

Even now, it looked like she was smiling serenely as she slept…

Easing her to the ground, the boy watched on as the artificial rivers lost their origin and began to run dry.

Though he knew the villagers would return at any moment, the boy couldn’t bring himself to leave the girl’s side.

Before long countless people swarmed to the temple, enraged that their life-giving water had stopped flowing.

They could not forgive the culprit that had destroyed the village’s foundation and condemned them all to certain death.

“You killed the witch! You killed the witch!”

“She’s not a witch!!”

To the villagers’ outrage, the boy roared back with anger of his own.

The girl had wiped away everyone’s tears, stopping at nothing to help others in need.

But who had been there to wipe away her tears…?

The villagers seized and beat the boy, dragging him outside and typing him to a stake.

Lighting a fire beneath his feet, they threw rocks and cursed the boy as he burned.

“You killed the witch!”

“You’ve killed us all!”

Even as his flesh blistered and blackened under the flames, the boy continued to cry out.

“She’s not a witch…! She’s not a witch…”

In a broken voice, the boy repeated it over and over again.

“She’s… not… a… witch…”

But his cries fell upon unhearing ears…

Until at long last… he stopped moving.

It was then that something impossible began to happen.

Something began to fall from the sky.

Wet and clear, like the sky itself was crying.

It was…rain.

A certain soul had been bearing witness to the tragic scene.

It was the girl, who had ascended into the sky upon being released from her cage of flesh.

She had watched on as the boy screamed in tear-choked agony.

Cursed by everyone, forsaken by the world, he died in great pain, his voice having reached no one.

She had watched, powerless to stop it, no matter how much she wished to.

And so with her eyes overflowing with more tears than ever before, from heaven she cried.

Clouds came and covered the sky, raining torrential swathes of water that swept away all in its wake.

The girl wept madly, unable to stop even as her tears swallowed and extinguished all life.

She grieved alone in the sky for many years before her tears ran dry, flooding the land several times over.

Many millennia passed before the waters finally receded.

It was only after eons of solitude that the girl spotted life beginning to take root again.

Overwhelmed by the moving sight, she began to sob once more, only to drown the fragile seeds of life.

In a heart breaking turn of events, the land became flooded again as she lamented her clumsiness.

It was not until many more eons passed that the waters receded and life struggled once more to take root.

Placing all her hope in that fragile, blooming life the girl vowed deep in her heart to nurture it with prudence.

Resolving to cry just enough that it wouldn’t wither, but not so much that it drowned, the girl directed her tears to fall from the sky in delicate equilibrium.

Occasionally she would commit an error, disrupting the frail balance and causing a drought or flood to devastate the blossoming flora.

In panic and heartbreak she would weep remorsefully, flooding the land once more.

But every time the water cleared away life always sprang back tenaciously, keeping her belied alive.

Repeating that cycle over and over again without losing faith, the girl finally saw the day that people roamed the earth once more.

For those people, she continues to weep to this very day, suffering without end so they can live on.

To this moment that girl lives on ,eternally bound to the sky.

When the clouds come and cover the skies, some people feel immense sadness at her tears.

Others feel soothed--- relieved that they have not been forgotten, and holding her timeless sacrifice dear to their hearts.

Some innocent children pout, complaining that they cannot play.

Even after being wronged so harshly by them, she continues to watch over and love people.

In times of scarcity, when people suffer from the absence of her blessing, she witnesses their pain and cries so that they might eat and drink.

In times of war, when people raze the land and commit atrocities, she beholds their sins and sobs so that the spilt blood might be washed away.

And in tines of prosperity, when people smile and laugh amidst flourishing fields, she admires their happiness and weeps in mirth so that they might continue to thrive.

THE END