Twenty-five years ago, I self-published The River of Rain, a philosophical exploration of freedom, human nature, and the modern world. To mark its anniversary, I’m releasing a fully revised edition, one chapter every Wednesday. This is the novel as it was meant to be.
“Um,” was all Victor could manage as he stared at Ariana’s completely naked form in the pouring rain. Something surged inside him. His heart hammered as if it might burst from his chest. He felt sick—not from revulsion, but from some unfamiliar emotion that seemed to melt him from within. He could only stare, paralyzed.
Ariana’s face flushed deep red as they stood there, locked in place, both growing steadily soaked. I should do something, Victor thought. Move. With effort, he pulled himself free of the trance and turned, walking into the enclave. Its design kept the edges along the walls dry while runoff funneled toward the center. He moved along the wall, hands brushing the stone for balance.
“Come on, get out of the rain,” he called. “I’ll, uh… get you something to wear.”
He tried to sound calm, though his composure was thin.
Ariana shivered as the icy rain beat against her exposed skin. She crossed her arms over her chest and held her legs tightly together. Watching Victor approach, she couldn’t tell if his movement was meant to help or harm. Her muscles tightened instinctively.
When he spoke, she found herself moving toward him without thinking. Then she remembered her outfit lying behind her. She glanced back. It was already half-buried in mud, torn and soaking. After a moment, she turned away and left it there to be swallowed by the storm.
Victor helped her up onto the narrow shelf at the cave’s entrance, guiding her carefully so the jagged rocks wouldn’t cut her. Once she reached the ledge, she collapsed into him. She knew it wasn’t right, but she couldn’t stop herself.
He stiffened at first, then slowly relaxed, leaning back against the wall as he looked out at the rain. Ariana trembled and began to cry softly, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping her alive. In truth, he was.
Victor held her lightly, unsure where to place his hands, afraid she might pull away again. Still, he didn’t want to let go. The closeness stirred something deeper, and memories came rushing back—his childhood, the life he had left behind.
There had been a time he almost missed it: the endless food, the big house, the television, all of it. But those thoughts faded against what he had found here; the sound of the river, the waterfall at night, the rhythm of storms, the sharp satisfaction of easing hunger with something he had hunted himself. That feeling… of tracking, of killing… thrilled him in a way nothing else ever had.
He had never fit in before. Sports held no appeal, and he lacked whatever quality seemed to draw people together. His differences had set him apart, left him alone. He supposed he could have changed, blended in, followed the others. But he remembered a line from a book—about a kind of personal shame, the sort that made a man turn away from his own reflection. No, this was better. Out here, in this hidden place, he was something more. Here, he was king.
The thought snapped away as suddenly as it had come.
Victor stirred and gently shook Ariana. “Let’s get you inside the cave,” he said. “It’s too cold out here. I’ll give you your jacket and a blanket.”
She looked up at him and nodded.
Inside, she sat against the wall, too exhausted to notice her own exposure. Victor kept his eyes carefully averted as he retrieved her jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then laid the fur blanket across her lap.
She stared downward, unfocused, until his movement drew her gaze upward. Their eyes met—hers bright green, searching. He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Ariana closed her eyes and held her breath.
Just as quietly, he pulled away and turned aside, settling onto his straw mat with his back to her.
Ariana remained still, eyes closed, lips parted slightly as if testing the air, hoping he was still there.
But he was already gone.
Continued in Chapter 7…
M.A. Kleen 
What are your thoughts?