Rain drizzled down, soaking everything in sight and turning a moderate day into one grey skied and soaking wet. Thunder boomed and rolled in the distance as shutters and screen doors were tossed open and lazily shut again by the balmy breeze, and wind chimes sang and echoed. Parents called their children indoors as wandering cats fled to find shelter and birds fought to return to their nests.
Young Dexter McPhearson sat on his family's porch, silently watching the scenes unfold with his calculating, bright blue gaze. He watched as the precipitation steadily turned every thing into something new; a new form, a new shape, a new phase of its being. Not only living things took part in the metamorphosis; the glistening, weeping spider's webs and smell of earth and purity and life filling his lungs attested to that. He closed his eyes, taking a deep, contented sigh, and listened.
When he was younger, he hadn't really liked the rain. Not at all like now, anyway. Back then he had considered it a dull form of weather, even if it was necessary. The rain used to frighten him, even, when it became a dark storm. No matter how he had tried to reason with himself and remain calm and rational, a crack of lightening outside and the moans of the trees could keep him up at night. His eyes would widen, and he would cover his ears with his hands or a pillow, trying to block out the overpowering, intimidating forces of nature that were so untamed; So much bigger than him.
Now that he was older, he didn't mind the rain. Having cooled down and stepped off a bit since his childhood (though he certainly still had a ways to go), he found it could be very pleasant indeed. Soothing and comforting; as it was now. He allowed himself a smile as he thought about it.