Rain Dance
I don't own Gilligan's Island or any of its characters. I'm just a fan and this is just a ficlet that popped into my head the other day. Feel free to offer any constructive critism. I hope you enjoy it.
Rain fell in large, lazy drops, sending the castaways running for cover. Mary Ann and Ginger burst into their hut shrieking with giddy laughter at the unexpected shower.
"Finally! I thought it would never rain again."
"Oh, I know, Mary Ann. I haven't had a decent shower in days, what with the supply running low and everything." Ginger dropped into her hammock, a true smile plastered on her face. "This is just wonderful. Who knew I'd be so happy over a little rain?"
Mary Ann squeezed the water out of her dark hair and her top, which she recently crafted out of a picnic tablecloth. She walked over to the window from which blew the sweet scent of fresh, wet earth. "You have every right to be happy about it. After all, our survival depends on it."
"Yeah. That's true." The two shared a comfortable silence, listening to the rhythm of the rain as it splattered against the roof. After a while Ginger sighed. "I guess I've taken it for granted, you know? I don't think I've ever just enjoyed a rainstorm before."
But Mary Ann wasn't listening. She leaned her head back in the window and asked distractedly for Ginger to repeat herself. Then without waiting for an answer, she leaned back out again.
Curiosity perked, she joined the younger girl at the window. "What on earth are you looking at?"
She smirked and ran across the room. "It's Gilligan," she whispered and pulled back the blanket that currently served as the door just enough for the two of them to stick their heads out.
Ginger squinted. "Is he having a fit or something?"
"What? No, I think he's dancing..."
Everyone else had scampered to the dry shelter of their huts, but not Gilligan. At first he just stood there with his eyes closed, relishing in the coolness as it ran down his face and soaked into his clothes. Slowly, though, the steady rythm of the rain falling against the rocks crept in under his thoughts, growing louder until it was all he could hear. The storm played brilliant music for the young man, begging him to abandon himself to its spell. He did it, willingly.
His foot tapped in time to the sound. The other one joined it, and together they performed a sort of freeform tap dance. Soon the beat spread to his arms and by the time it reached his brain all restraint failed and his sanity left him. Faster and faster he moved, spinning around in ever tightening circles through the rain which seemed to come down harder as his movements became increasingly erratic. Some distant part of his mind registered his own laughter, which seemed almost alien to his ears. How long had it been since he had laughed like that? Had he really ever?
The gale reached its climax and Gilligan's legendary clumsiness decided to kick in. One foot hooked under the other, sending him sprawling face down in the wet sand. Still he laughed like a madman as he rolled over and stared up into the heavens.
"Gilligan?" Mary Ann leaned over him, concern etched on her face. "Is everything alright?"
"Everything is perfect, Mary Ann. Just perfect."