To Pay the Rainmaker

It was almost fifty years ago, but we still celebrated the anniversary of that day every year. It was the day our village was saved. Some people called it a miracle, but I knew better because I was the one that made it happen.

But there wouldn't be any celebrations this year as just like fifty years ago it hasn't rained in almost two months. If it didn't rain soon, the crops would die in the fields, and many would lose their farms. Nobody was in any mood to celebrate.

It all started the year I turned twelve. He said fifty years later, when I reached sixty-two, the bill would have to be paid.

The payment would be high, higher than any man was willing to pay.

I’d hoped that the words the Rainmaker spoke that day were the ramblings of a crazy man. That is until the package appeared this morning, sitting at the foot of my bed.

I tripped over it as I stumbled towards the toilet. With my eyes not fully open, I thought I'd tripped over Kelsey, my Golden retriever, who I swear was older than me when he showed up on my doorstep last year.

I drained off and was loudly giving Kelsey shit for acting like a speed bump as I walked back to the bedroom and stopped in my tracks when I saw it.

He told me I would know when I saw it. I would know it was time to pay the rainmaker.

It was about eight inches square and wrapped in brown paper. It looked like something from an archeology dig and scared the shit out of me as it lay there covered in dirt and old grimy handprints.

I swear it's the same package that he opened in my grandfather's cornfield fifty years ago. I remember it clearly, right down to the handprints and the small tear on one corner.

But how could that be as I saw him open it and release those flying things into the sky?

There had to be thousands of those tiny moths, I think their called Gypsy moths, in that little box. They circled him as he raised his arms to the cloudless sky and spoke in a language that made no sense. It sounded like a record player playing in reverse and caused my twelve-year-old self to violently throw up and piss my pants.

All of a sudden, he tilted his head upward and spat into the sky. It was the largest spit I ever saw, and I watched in wonder as the moths went into a frenzy surrounding the spit and carried it straight up until they disappeared.

That's when it happened. Within seconds the wind picked up, and I could feel moisture in the air as clouds formed overhead. The sky started to darken as clouds seemed to come from all directions and join together directly over our town. I turned towards the rainmaker and saw what would become my nightmare. He was shaking violently. No, not shaking, but something else was happening that confused my eyes and loosened my grip on reality. It’s hard to describe what I saw that day. It was like watching a video that was stuck and playing the same one second over and over at high speed.

Then with a flash of light and a thunder crash, down it came. Rain, Lots and lots of rain. It was like standing under a waterfall as I watched the wilted corn stalks slowly stand and drink in the gift from above.

I turned to look towards the town for less than two seconds, but when I turned back, he was kneeling on the ground, not two feet from my face. Terrified, I tried to back away, but my legs wouldn't move and felt like they were glued to the mud at my feet. That's when he told me the actual price, the price that was coming due now, fifty years later, in less than three days.

I remember when I first met him. It was the day I found my grandparents in the kitchen, holding each other and crying. They sat me down and told me that they would have to give up the farm. The farm had been in the family for four generations, but they had no choice as there was no money coming in, and the bank couldn't carry them anymore.

I went into town with them that day and waited in the park across from the bank as they tried one last time to convince the banker to give them more time.

I noticed him as I sat on a park bench crying. He looked like a bum as he walked back and forth in front of me. His clothes were old and worn, and he was barefoot as he paced the cobblestone walkway. He was what my grandfather would call a hippy hitchhiker.

I sat on the bench crying with my head in my hands, begging, "Please God help my grandpa; he's a good man. Please help." That's when he sat beside me on the bench and said, "What's wrong, young fella? Can I help?" I stared at him for a few seconds before telling him my story. There was just something about him that made me feel like everything would be ok. Even though his clothes were dirty and he looked like he hadn't washed in a long time, he smelled clean. He smelled like something I hadn't felt in a long time. He smelled like spring rain.

He told me he was a rainmaker and he could make it rain for a price. That's when I knew he was crazy and stood to leave, but he touched my arm and said, "Let me show you." I stood stock-still, lost in his eyes and wanting to believe as he placed his hand on my back and looked up at the sky. After a few seconds, he asked, "Can you feel it?"

I could feel it. I could smell and feel moisture in the air and on my face and back. It wasn't sweat but a cool mist that touched my skin and made me believe. He told me the cost would be fifty, and I should meet him in my grandfather's field in three days. I didn't know how I would get fifty dollars, but I believed he could do it, so I agreed.

I did find the money, or I should say I stole the money from my grandfather's stash, and he did make it rain and scared the shit out of me in the process.

But as I stood before him with terror in my eyes, he said, "I don't want the money in your pocket. It's not money I want. I want fifty souls, one for every year that the rain comes and not just any souls, for when I return in fifty years, I will claim the fifty youngest in this town."

The next thing I remembered was being shaken awake, as I lay in the rain in the field, by my grandfather.

Now, as I walk into town alone, as my neighbour’s ten-year-old boy, Tommy, must have come and taken Kelsey to the park again, I think about my granddaughters.

As I got close to my daughter's home, I could feel his presence; he was here somewhere in town waiting for his payment. The time was near, and as I walked up my daughter's driveway, I prayed to any God that was listening to please not take my granddaughters.

I saw the package as soon as I reached the front porch. It was small and wrapped in clean, crisp brown paper. It looked to be the opposite of what was sitting at the foot of my bed. There was a note pinned to the door that said, "We had to go to town, dad. We’ll be back in a couple of hours; there's fresh bread on the counter."

I looked at the package at my feet and could see something written on the outside,

“The answer to your rain problem is inside.”

My hands trembled as I sat on the step and opened the package. All that was inside was a single piece of paper with writing on it. It said,

“All things can be changed with faith but not just any faith. Only true faith can change the reaping of what you sow. The truest faith of all is the faith of a child.”

I couldn't understand what the words meant or how they could help me, or why the paper felt warm in my hands and comforted me somehow.

I carefully folded the paper and put it in my shirt pocket before walking to the town hall to meet with the elders. We were planning a vigil in the town square on the night of the anniversary, where everybody would ask their personnel god or lost loved one for rain.

I saw him standing outside the town hall as I approached, and he smiled and walked towards me. The rainmaker looked exactly the same as the last time I saw him; he hadn’t aged a day. I felt the letter in my pocket getting warmer with each step he took until he suddenly stopped and looked at me with what I could only describe as fear, before he abruptly turned and walked away.

The day is here, and so is he; I saw him standing at the back of the crowd as I moved to the front to make my speech. Fear oozed from every pour in my body as I scanned the crowd looking for my family. I could see them towards the back, not far from the rainmaker. I could also see my dog Kelsey, who I haven’t seen in days, standing at the front with Tommy.

I touched the letter in my pocket and understood the words now. We needed to have faith that it would rain. Not just hope but true faith that our hopes would be answered. But there was a problem. I had hope, but true faith was a different story, and I knew that everybody else here felt the same.

I asked everybody to look to the sky and ask their loved ones for rain. There was a quiet murmuring as everyone looked up and whispered their prayers. I could see the rainmaker slowly making his way to the front until something surprising happened. Tommy stepped forward with Kelsey and blocked his path.

I heard a distant rumbling in the sky as Tommy walked to my side with Kelsey and opened a bag he was carrying.

That little boy changed everything, as he smiled at me before pulling an umbrella from the bag and opening it over his head.

This was true faith, the faith of a child, and he was the only one who believed enough to bring an umbrella. Within seconds the rumbling of thunder grew louder and closer as the first drops fell. It was slow at first and then came stronger as the wind picked up a little. Soon everybody was hugging and crying as they danced in the street in the pouring rain.

I looked for the rainmaker, but he was gone, and I knew in my heart he wouldn't be coming back.

I went to Tommy and hugged him, saying, "Thank you, Tommy. You did it, son. Your faith brought the rain and saved us all." Tommy smiled and said, "I didn't do it, sir. He did."

I looked for the rainmaker before grabbing Tommy's shoulders and saying, "Who did it, son? Who are you talking about?" Tommy just smiled and said, “Don’t worry, everything will be ok now. He did it." Then he turned and pointed at Kelsey, who for some reason looked much younger now.