My first Full Metal Alchemist story, please forgive me for this utter crap!! I had to write a vignette for school and figured I might as well post it...MonPetitLoupDeMort, I'm so sorry! you wirte me such nice reviews for everything, but I know even you can't come up with something good to say about this one...
Anyways, this follows no plot from the FMA manga or anime, the characters are ooc, and basically aside from a few references, and the names, it is not really FMA at all. This is the strange EdxSchiezka pairing, one which I do not normally support. I jsut love both those names!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything here. So sue me Mr. President.
Schiezka's Rain
I hated the rain. Schiezka loved it. Every single time we were together, she was determined to change my mind. She would stick her tongue out at me and say, almost wonderingly, "Ed, how can you not love the rain?" She would sigh dreamily and look out the window. "Rain is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She would point out the window on rainy days, "See? See how everything is cleansed? Look at all the growth the rain nourishes! The rain is life, it's joy! Have you tasted it, Ed? The taste of life is the taste of falling rain…" I would laugh at her then, forgive her for pestering me about rain all the time, and tease her, saying that she loved the rain more than her precious books, more than me perhaps. She would blush so innocently at that, that I never realized until it was too late that she'd manipulated me, dragged me out to dance in that terrible rain with her. But I never minded, because I would watch her joy as she spun around, drinking in the droplets that fell on her beautiful face, and for a few moments, I would forgive the rain for being terrible.
Still, I never understood how she could think such things. Rain? Joy? What was she talking about? Rain was the ever constant misery of my life. It rained the day my mother died, and the day my brother and I left our house, orphans. The rain poured down relentlessly the day we learned our surrogate uncle was found shot in a telephone booth, and the day we witnessed the government's massacre of an entire race.
It rained the day Schiezka died.
I stood in front of her coffin, on the day of her funeral, and watched them lower the girl of my dreams into the ground. It rained then too. I hated it.
The next year, when I returned to her grave, having finally worked up the courage to go see her, I was astonished. Her grave… on that rainy day, it had been so barren and cold. Devoid of life, with nothing to decorate it but cold stone and wet dirt. But now…there were flowers! Colors everywhere, splashes of red, blue, yellow…and the scents! The sweet smell of flowers, the smell of memories and happy times. It brought tears to my eyes. I finally understood what Schiezka meant.
The rain that made her happy. All those sad, grief-struck days, filled with the rain that made her happy. The rain was not terrible, not sad nor cruel. It was hope. It renewed the earth, brought life where it was gone, brought joy and new times, even as it cried with us for what we lost.
Schiezka's rain.
"The taste of life is the taste of falling rain."