Rainmaker
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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Sat, Sep 28, 20241h 39m
The land is barren, cracked under the relentless sun, with towns struggling for survival. Villages are clustered around shrinking oases and rivers that have nearly dried up. Rain is a distant memory, and those with the ability to summon it-Rainmakers-are both revered and feared
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The rain stopped. But so did the dream. In the end, it was as if it never happened. If none of it was real, is there a point of remembering? Is it the memories trapping me or myself? This is a collection of short pieces of writings created in the middle of the night during sudden mood swings, all somewhat related to rainy days or endless fields or train stations...or maybe something more. Theres no particular order so enjoy :)

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