The thud of rain hitting the red terracotta roof, trickling down the crevices of each red tile and the soft thulp as the rain disrupts the surface of a growing mud and moss puddle, interrupts my holiday reading. I run to my bedroom window and watch as a trickle of rain seems to form a bridge between my roof and the green mossy ground. A cool breeze grazes the skin on my face and I really want to drop my "To Kill A Mockingbird ", run out into the rain and dance to its music. An old wooden window in the corridor, creaks and slams shut. Like a signal, I hear my grandmother yell from upstairs, telling me to close all the windows downstairs. I quickly walk out to the corridor, to the window and put its old metal latch in place.
The door is just beside the window. I stand on the doorstep and watch the rain form puddles in the soil. I watch as it rolls off the leaves of my grandmothers precious rose shrubs.' She won't need to water them today', I think to myself and smile. Another gush of wind and a spray of cool water hits my face and arms and I finally decide to go play in the rain. Ironically, I hear my grandmother telling me not to go out in the rain because I will fall sick. The rebel in me ignores everything she said and I kicked off my old slippers and ran.
It only took a few seconds for my clothes to get soaked. The cotton clung to my torso and every hair on my arms stood up. With every step, my feet sunk into the wet mud and the smell of wet grass hit me harder. Before I knew it, I was dancing in the rain, to a tune that I made up.
Almost like a distant dream, I hear my grandmother yell for me. I ignore it. Her screaming gets louder and I hear the wooden door creak as she stands on its step, the water still trickling down my face in tiny rivulets.