Blog 5

Mae let the rain drip down her face. The ground was cold and damp. The clouds hung dark and low like sleeping, errant, black sheep. Thick curtains of rain festooned the sky. Shadowy swirls of mist came twisting through on the gusting wind. The path ahead and behind her was obscured by the rain and fog carried on shifting winds. The rain poured down. All of the plants hung limply under the torrent. A single, bedraggled hare hopped hurridly along and took refuge quickly in a small hole under a bush. The other animals were in safe seclusion deep under the ground. They had sensed the coming rainstorm. Up ahead on the trail, all that was visible was a few feet of drenched, sodden path. The whole world seemed to be in tears. Clouds quickly rolled by dumping their drops onto the sleeping world. The hours it had been raining felt like years unending. The blue sky seemed so far away.
Mud puddles adorned the ground, each holding a small, broken mirror image of the heart-broken sky. The brown ground was covered in these such puddles. Each was about the size of a small window. A raindrop fell from a cloud far above. It came down in a perfect, exact teardrop. It caught the faint light and shimmered slightly. For a second it seemed to hover, suspended, fleeting perfection. With a slight splash it landed in a littler puddle. It sent tidal waves in all directions to reach the edges of the sea. A fleeting crown arose where it had fallen. It raised delicate drops up and then they came down again. It in it's turn was eclipsed by the next falling drop, each to add to the other until this small wet patch was as large as all the others.
A small daisy growing by the wayside had broken. It's stem snapped in half by the continual rain. It lay, broken and warped, across the path. The flower once must have been a delicate, beautiful white and a rich, vibrant yellow. Now, half-submerged in one of the muddy basins the colors seemed muted. The white became off-white, a muddy, dispiriting color. But the saddest was the yellow. Once so full of life and vitality it was brown and withered. The green was darkened and browned. Petals came off the daisy. Small and white they drifted hopelessly, up and down, right and left. One brave flower came to the top and made a boat rocking on the water. It sailed along, dodging the raindrops, like a funeral boat shrouded in white cloth for the dead. Another mournful tear dripped down from the graying, ancient sky and fell into the tiny craft. It sank under the weight of it's burden and slowly went down, down, down. To the bottom of the muddy lake to be covered in the scum at the bottom.
Mae's footsteps behind her filled like lagoons. Sweeping, raging rivers fed by the rain came rushing along the path. They passed and made passage back impossible. They erased her footsteps in the soil. Eroded quickly, they left no trace that she had passed there except for small depressions. These filled and became mirrors that continually were refilled. The only was to go was on ahead. Out loud Mae said, "I've got to go on."

Note: The goal of this blog was to demonstrate Indirect Characterization. Can you guess what it's about? Post guesses as comments.