aryelee

United States

19 and boppin

Message from Writer

out of the deck of lgbt cards, im the ace

im dippin in like one week y'all should know where to find me by now

snapshot: monsoon season in the desert

September 8, 2019

PROMPT: Local Tongue

7

Look to the sky while the wind whips your hair around your face; wait for the monsoon to roll in.

What's the point of having a summer without a cleansing rain? Deep breaths now; you can smell the rain, the scent filling the atmosphere. This, too, is a type of cleansing.

Summer down here are merciless, as you've come to learn. Four months you have to withstand temperatures that are 100 and fuck degrees, while you swing your hydro and hope the ice inside doesn't melt too fast. Even the wind offers no relief as it blows the storm in, all hot and unforgiving, like the desert is trying to blow you away.

You shelter under the thin shade of a mesquite, watching idly as cars roar past you, snowbirds causing nearly two accidents in the twenty minutes you wait for the bus. It's no surprise, and certainly not something to worry about. No one in this town knows how to drive, much less snow birds, and you've learned quick to stop fearing death.

All these vacationers and snowbirds looking for endless summer sun; you wonder why the southwest desert had any appeal to them when beaches exist. Everyone you know is aching to leave, turning their gaze to places with greenery and four seasons instead of summer and one week of moderately cool temperatures.

You're among them; daydreams are filled with tall trees and soft grasses, regular rain and sun, a place where strange things don't cry in the night and the sky always goes dark when the sun falls. Boring math classes have certainly brought out the artist in you.

But still, when you are home, sitting on the patio and staring at a dark sky filled with clouds, you know you'll miss this. The unforgiving heat is familiar, hydros a common accessory, eegee's always out with a new flavor, and deafening thunder and lightning dances.

The rain comes down, and you drown in the scent of it, listening to the thunder and watching bright bright flashes of lightning above you.

Most come to the desert for the sunsets and cactus; you stay for the rain that cleanses you of your pain.

Though the monsoon covers the sun entirely, it's still bright out. The desert is filled with endless light, it seems.

You wonder if you will dream of this when you leave.

this prompt was made for me lol; catch me studying local non-uni slang that i didnt even notice i was using till i wrote this. highkey wish i had the patience to write pronunciation guides to things we say here but i got enough phonetics hw as it is lol

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  • September 8, 2019 - 12:43pm (Now Viewing)

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2 Comments
  • rainandsonder

    the place i live isn't nearly as hot as this, but it also never gets cold, so i can relate to the feeling of wanting four seasons again. your writing is so so immersive here, i feel as though i've lived in this town my whole life, like i knows its ins and outs and backroads just by reading this piece. i love how matter-of-fact and yet poetic is; one of my favorite lines was, "No one in this town knows how to drive, much less snow birds, and you've learned quick to stop fearing death." love it!


    about 1 year ago
  • Anha

    woah woah woah!! this!! is!! amazing!! don't know what brought you to spamming my prose notifications, but the least i can do to return the favour is pointing out how incredible this piece is. the vibes in this piece are brilliant, and your foreign terminology is woven so seamlessly into this immersive narrative it feels like an urban legend passed from traveller to traveller. asdjkskjskjdsksj i!! love!! this!!


    about 1 year ago