☔ Torrents

Rain pattered on the window. It had been coming down all day and was showing no signs of letting up. If anything, it was getting heavier by the minute. The extraterrestrial wandered outside, holding its appendages out, as if feeling it for the first time.

“I don’t think it rains on their planet, Joe,” said Marcy.

They waited in the parlor by the large bay window while the rain poured down harder and harder. The extraterrestrial carried on. It gleamed as if lit by a dozen halogen lightbulbs. Marcy would have put something like this on a Christmas tree—a big one, though, like the one at Rockefeller Center. 

“Marcy, don’t you think it should come back in?” It had wandered into the parlor through the back door earlier, and had made no trouble, although it had tried to interact with the ficus plant that grew in the corner of the room, near the entrance to the kitchen.

“You call it in.”

“Can it hear me?”

“Who can hear anything with this rain?”

The rain indeed fell as if otherworldly beings were pouring it from gigantic pitchers in the sky. The sound it made on the shed’s tin roof was deafening.

“Hope the bicycles are in.” Joe pictured their wheels rusting right off in these torrents.

Then the telephone rang.

Marcy and Joe looked at each other. 

Joe started toward it, but stopped abruptly. “You think it’s the neighbors? Have they seen anything?”

“Who’d look out the window in this weather?”

“We are.”

It was true. And if anyone else saw what was going on, they would be questioned. And if they were questioned, they would be held responsible. And what would happen to the extraterrestrial? It had only arrived that afternoon. In the distance it seemed like a firefly, although it wasn’t the season for them yet. 

The telephone continued to ring. 

Joe walked across the room, past the kitchen door, and reached his hand toward the curving handset. It trembled as it rang again. He picked it up. 

“Hello?”

Some crackly sounds spewed out of the receiver.

Marcy came over, straining to hear.

“Hello, Bosworth residence,” Joe repeated what their parents had said while they were growing up.

More static.

“I think the rain has affected the telephone line.” Joe held the handset away from him, frowning.

Marcy turned back to the window. The extraterrestrial was jerking its appendages in different directions. Almost as if it were attempting to dance—the way Joe did, when people tried not to comment. 

“I really think it should come in,” said Joe, putting down the receiver. He walked to the door, opened it, got hit by a sheet of rain, and shut it immediately.

Marcy stared. “I’ll get towels.”

The telephone rang again.

“Who in the world could be calling?” Joe started toward it.

“Hey—the floor.”

“Oh, right.” Joe stared at his dripping button-down shirt. He remained where he was.

The jangling of the telephone pierced the humid air.

Marcy hesitated, then picked it up. 

Joe stood impatiently by the door. 

“Hello.” Marcy listened intently, then jerked her head back as a crack sounded through the receiver. “Ow!”

“Ow...” came faintly through the line.

Marcy knitted her brow and cautiously drew the receiver closer to her ear. “Is anyone there?”

There was some static, and Marcy held the receiver away again, anticipating another loud crack.

“What in blazes..?” Joe walked over.

“Joe! We just polished the wood!”

But he’d already come over. Rivulets streamed from under his slippers. 

More crackling. Then a whoosh—or was it a “Woooo...”?

“I can’t make heads or tails of it,” Marcy said, and almost hung up, but Joe caught the handset before it reached the telephone base.

“Hello?”

“Your fingers are wet.”

“Sorry.”

“Soooooo,” came through the receiver.

“Who is this? Is this Frankie?”

Frankie was the daughter of the neighbors down the road. She’d already gotten in trouble for prank calling.

“Keeeeeeey...”

“See here, now this is not funny. It’s raining buckets and you shouldn’t be making prank calls.”

“Keeeeeeey...”

“This is just too much!”

“Joe! Look!” Marcy cried. She was at the window.

The extraterrestrial stood in the rain, staring back at her.

She waved.

The extraterrestrial came closer.

Joe shivered as he held the handset. The cord dangling from it shook.

“You really should change.”

“I thought you were going to get towels.”

“You’re already inside, ruining the wood floors.”

The extraterrestrial came closer to the window. At the same time, the telephone receiver crackled. Joe nearly dropped it.

Sheets of rain pounded on the house and the sky changed to steel grey.

The extraterrestrial gleamed all the more.

A crack sounded, and Marcy looked over to the telephone, but the noise was coming from outside. A blinding flash lit up the room, draining color from the curtains, table, telephone, and every other object in the room. A crash followed. An earthquake? Now both of them were trembling. But the banging rolled into a rumbling, and thunder followed. 

The room went dark. 

Marcy made out Joe’s figure by the side table in the darkness.

“Joe! Let go of the telephone!”

There was a thump and Marcy jumped.

“I dropped it.”

“You ok?”

“Well, I didn’t get electrocuted, if that’s what you’re wondering about.”

“Ohhhhhhh...”

“It’s that darned telephone line. We should have it looked at,” said Joe.

Before Marcy’s eyes could fully adjust to the darkness, they were accosted by another bright light. 

The extraterrestrial was approaching, the light emanating from it getting stronger and stronger. 

“Is that lightning?” Joe asked.

“It’s our friend.”

Another “Ohhhhhhh...” came from the telephone receiver, as it swayed from its cord where Joe had let go of it.

The extraterrestrial moved toward the door.

Joe came and stood beside Marcy.

The extraterrestrial opened the door and walked in. Joe looked over at Marcy, expecting her to say something about the floor, but she just watched, mouth agape. In any case, there didn’t seem to be much water dripping from the extraterrestrial. Perhaps its glow deflected water—or at least hid it.

A limp sound putted out of the telephone’s receiver. The extraterrestrial walked toward it. 

“Stop!” Marcy and Joe yelled at the same time.

But the extraterrestrial picked up the swinging handset just as another bolt of lightning blazed through the sky.

“Owwww...” came from the receiver.

“Owwww...” responded the extraterrestrial.

Marcy and Joe tumbled toward it frantically. They reached the side table just as it vaporized in front of their eyes. 

Marcy and Joe stared at the spot where the extraterrestrial had stood. 

Thunder crashed. It was farther away this time.

“What did it say? Why did it leave?” asked Joe.

“Too wet.” Marcy shook her head.