Realized I've been silent far too long: Have some Original Fiction. · 6:05am Apr 30th, 2014

Apologies for my lack of posting and writing, I've been totally swamped at school. This is my final semester at my university, and I'll be graduating in four weeks with my BA in English! Until that time, I'm going to be busy working on my senior thesis paper and a large number of other projects, including work for my Creative Short Fiction class.

Wrote this story for my class, I hope you enjoy it. The objective was to write a short story in under 1000 words that combined narrative elements and character dialogue to reveal things in a subtle way about the characters.

Ty stands out in the rain, sighing at his sopping shoes as runnels of water drip across the shoulders of his white shirt, collecting on the name tag affixed to his front pocket. 'Elder Burton', it reads. His companion is inside, using a restroom, and so he is outside, beneath a small awning, watching the gutter runoff spill into the streets and flow like a river down hill. He looks up to see a man walking on the puddles with his hands folded behind his back, moving down the middle of the street, and he musters a smile from somewhere inside where the rain can't soak through. "Excuse me, sir. Do you have a moment?"
The man stops, turning to look over at Ty, and stares through him for a long moment. "You don't want to talk to me."
The rain picks up overhead, a cloud bursting violently, and Ty blinks away an errant droplet of water and wipes the back of his hand across his face. "What?"
The man strides over and pauses in front of Ty, glancing up at the sky. "Bit wet out here, isn't it?"
The rain pelts the awning overhead, drumming tunelessly against the tattered canvas, and Ty reflexively shares in the upward glance, his smile becoming more of a grimace. "Yes, it is," he states flatly, before looking down at the man again. "Why shouldn't I talk to you?"
Soft laughter cuts through the rainfall all-too-briefly. "Oh, you should talk with me. That's not what I said, though. I said that you don't want to talk to me."
Ty shakes his head. "What?"
"Always questions with people like you," the man murmurs. "Why are you even here?"
"I thought I didn't want to talk with you," Ty remarks with an uncomfortable chuckle.
"You don't, but I want to talk with you. Why are you here?"
"I'm here," Ty says, breathing in as he prepares to launch into his rote speech, "to speak with people about God, and teach his message of salvation for—"
"I know that, son," the man states, interrupting Ty, "but you've missed the point. Why are you even here?"
Ty halts, glancing over his shoulder into the shop behind him. No sign of his companion. He faces the curious man, considering a reply before speaking again. "I don't understand."
The man nods sagely, "That's good, at least you know enough to admit that. I mean why are you right here, in this moment, standing with me in the rain?"
The rain buzzes overhead, white noise that almost covers his thoughts and overwhelms his voice, but Ty speaks through the clarion call of the overhead storm. "I suppose I could say it's fate," he began, earning a small snort of derision from the man, "but I don't believe in fate. I'm here because my friend is in the bathroom, and you're here because I called you over, and now we're here, in this moment, standing in the rain talking about why we're here. It's all very random and exciting."
The man smiles, and his teeth are perfect. "That's a good answer. I think you want to talk to me, now."
"I do. What's your name?" Ty asks, a more genuine smile creeping out from underneath the battered one he had displayed before.
"You can call me Pa."
"Well, Pa, have you heard the of Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints?" asks Ty.
"I'm familiar with it," Pa states evenly, a hint of mirth creeping into his voice.
"Excellent. How familiar are you, exactly?"
"You could say that I'm a believer, but that wouldn't be quite the truth. Tell me, son, why do you follow that particular faith?" says Pa, leaning forward and shuffling farther beneath the awning.
"I was born into the church, and I've always believed. I was raised to follow God's teachings," replies Ty earnestly.
"Does it make you happy?"
The question strikes Ty as funny, and he can’t help but smile. "Of course."
The man smiles politely through Ty and steps back out onto the water, turning away and continuing down the road.
Ty fidgets, shifting from one foot to the other, and glances back into the shop to the closed restroom door. Ty leans out into the cold rain, socks squelching in his shoes, and then hurries after the man. "Wait. I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"
The man looks up as he walks, smiling at the clouds and ignoring Ty. Ty clenches his fists briefly, hesitating, before he speaks loudly, "No."
The rain seems warmer, suddenly, as the man stops mid-stride. Ty continues, squeezing his eyes closed as he talks. "No, it doesn't make me happy. It makes me sad, sometimes, because people don't listen; they don't even give me the time of day. It makes me angry, sometimes, too, because people are rude and insulting, slamming doors in my face even though I'm only doing what I believe is right. It makes me proud, too, when somebody I teach comes back for more lessons, grows to know and love God, and finds faith. It makes me miss my home, and miss my friends, and it makes me love this new place and these new people. It does a lot of things. Sometimes, it makes me happy, too, but that's not really the answer."
Ty opens his eyes and finds himself face-to-face with the man. He sees something too briefly in the man's eyes, reflecting like candlelight on water, and he notices for the first time that the man's clothes are dry.
"Now that is an answer worth hearing.”