The rain patters softly outside my window. The gentle sound fills my mind, creating the illusion of peace and quiet. So long as I hold on to it, this peace, so fragile, I'll be able to reach school in one piece tomorrow.

The sky darkens, and my pen flows across the page like water, smooth, red liquid soaking its way into the paper, there is no thunder, no lightning. Everything is dark, perfect peace, perfect harmony. I love this feeling, though it comes to me less often now. This feeling of security, as the rain quickens its pace, of being surrounded by nothingness. To me, the nothingness is peace, the inky blackness stretching out before me is welcoming. I do not hide. Peering into the darkness, rain falls softly on my head, like the blessings of the sky. Somewhere, a cat meows, it is feeling lonely tonight, with no other cat to accompany it. I can imagine the cat, standing on the pavement, like an expectant young girl, waiting for her date. Forepaws placed together neatly, tail curled around her body, waiting, as the first drops of rain begin to fall. One hits her head, and slides into her eye, she blinks, and waits on. I accompany her in her night vigil, as, elsewhere, my fellow humans run to shelter, holding umbrellas or dashing to their cars, scurrying to whatever little hole they can find. The cat meows again, softly. If she were human, a tear would have joined the puddle she was standing in. Without a second look, the cat turns swiftly, her coat wet and glistening, graced with the pearls of the sky, and disappears into that lovely darkness. The headlights of a passing car, full of wet humans, illuminates her sad, amber eyes for a second before it drives away.

I am left alone to contemplate the rain. It is getting heavier, and the sky above me is a melancholy shade of dark grey. A few passing drivers look at me with concern but drive on, already late for their meetings. Besides, they do not wish to get their leather seats wet. My feet are tired. I settle on the edge of the curb, careful not to sit in a puddle. As each droplet lands on my outstretched hands, they tell me their story, and tales they have brought from afar.

"I come from the Kallang Basin, you should see the sandy beaches, man-made, but so beautiful! Yes, and the lake itself! It was dirty, no doubt, floating pieces of plastic were often pushed by us, Coke cans being the lightest, but we were so proud!" One of them tells me with the air of a rich lord.

"How can your river possibly compare with the Singapore River? You tell me! Imagine the little boats passing to and fro all day long! Oh, it was fun racing along with the currents!" Another snatches the attention away, squealing like an excited child.

"Huh! That's nothing compared to where I come from! I come from a puddle in Orchard Road! Just think! Heart of Singapore! All the shoes that I've seen! Oh! The glamour!" A dreamy voice to my left whispers.

But each one slides from my fingers before it is able to finish its story, and I am left wondering about the ending. I hear thunder now, accompanied with a flash of lightning. The bats have come, they gather above the streetlamp, squeaking softly. I watch their black shapes flit from side to side as they swop news and rumours of the best fruit trees.

"Ooh..have you heard? A large chiku tree bore ten new fruits yesterday!"

"So what? Wait till you hear this! An orchard south of the obstacle with a deeper resonance than the others has papaya trees!"

"Hang on. Before you all fly off, you'd best hear about the traffic first!"

"Alright. There's a new object next to that large rain tree, you know, the one we normally roost in. Beatty nearly killed himself there last week...."

"Nearly forgot. There's another one of those things near a bright light, where some of you bats gather..."

The street is utterly silent now but for the squeaks of the bats.

I lean back, hands on the slick, wet pavement, and watch the solid outlines of the trees, illuminated briefly against the flash of lightning, appear and disappear, indistinct.

Even the bats have gone now, the meeting adjourned, as they dart away in search of their meal.

I am left alone, once again, within my sanctuary of the rain, listening to their tales, before they flow away.

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