The Downpour
A Cure for Drowning?
The rain never stopped. The city had once been beautiful. Now metal and smoke jutted up from the cityscape that had once been carved marble. Not that Eliza had ever seen such things, except in old, brown-edged photos. She looked at the rust forming on the nearest building and sighed. If only anyone had bothered to care for upkeep, perhaps the city wouldn’t look so rundown.
Though it might just be the rain. She had to protect herself everyday, with her trench coat, hat, boots and umbrella. Perhaps the building just didn’t have such protection and broke down due to the ongoing downpour.
Water could erode stone, given enough time.
She walked down the cobbled streets, which were completely covered by water. Eliza made it to her destination with only her boots soaked, which she considered a fine achievement. She might have knocked, but this establishment was likely not to let anyone in who asked, so instead she just opened the door and walked in.
The massive room was both a library and garage. There was a huge zeppelin in the center of the room, just beneath the skylight, and surrounding it were stacks of books. If Eliza was ever employed here, the first thing she would do would be to commission a carpenter to build some shelves and then begin the task of organizing all of these books. There was no way anyone could find anything in this mess.
“Hello,” the voice came out from under the zeppelin. It was too young to be who she was looking for and as he crawled out, she noticed the man was too tall as well. His jumpsuit was stained in dirt and oil. He removed his gloves and goggles, only to reveal the rest of him was just as dirty. “You must be looking for the boss. He’s not here right now, but maybe I can help you,” he hesitated before guessing, “Ester?”
“Eliza,” she corrected. Her tone was curt but not annoyed. She wanted to be annoyed, but she couldn’t remember the mechanic’s name either. It started with an R. Reginald?
“I can make some tea for you, if you like,” he walked over to a kitchenette, wiping his dirty hands on his dirty pants in an attempt to clean them. He filled the copper kettle with water and placed it on the burner.
Ronald?
“The boss likes loose leaf tea; he makes all different kinds. I thought it was kind of pretentious at first, but I’ve grown to like it,” he got out two mismatched but clean and pretty porcelain cups and saucers.
Raymond. The mechanic’s name was Raymond. “Thank you,” she said and found a seat amongst the clutter. Eliza was careful to sit as she’d been taught, legs closed and ankles crossed.
It didn’t take long before the kettle whistled and the mechanic poured them both a cup. She took her cup and saucer with a nod, carefully placing the diffuser away from her. She now wished she’d asked which blend he’d picked. Still, once she braved a sip, it tasted good.
Eliza would’ve been content in the silence, but it seemed Raymond would not be content, “This rain never stops, huh? I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She hummed in agreement and took an extra long sip of her tea, wishing the man she came to see would show up.
The mechanic’s voice softened, “Is your mother still sick?”
Eliza felt the tug of sadness at the thought of her mother, but refused to let it show on her face. She’d been trained since birth that as a lady her emotions were her own business and nobody else’s. She took another long sip of tea, and this time the mechanic seemed to get the hint. He finished his tea and returned to work with a half-hearted smile.
She continued to wait until finally the master of the house returned. He looked like a bundle of clothes walking in rather than a man, but his gruff voice echoed in the large room. “Damn this infernal rain. Raymond! Raymond! Heat me up something warm.”
He removed his goggles, top hat and several layers of coats before he noticed Eliza. “Oh, it’s you again. Has your mother still not gotten any better?”
Eliza rose and set the cup and saucer down carefully near the kitchenette that Raymond was returning to. “No,” she answered.
The old man’s brow furrowed. “It doesn’t make any sense. Mandrake should work.” He began to mumble under his breath as he walked towards where he kept all the odd and ends he sold, including fresh plants, gemstones and other things used in magic.
He returned with the root, and Eliza had the money waiting, holding it out with her gloved hand. “Has the price changed?” she asked.
The old man hesitated before making the exchange, “Not yet. But if this rain keeps up, it will have to.” His blue eyes met her brown ones, looking deeply into her.
For a moment, Eliza felt the cold stab of worry. Did he know? Some suspected the old man to be a wizard, could he tell?
But then Raymond handed the old man his tea and he lost all interest in his customer. Eliza took in a deep breath before heading to the door. As she made her exit, she heard Raymond call out, “Be safe going home, Miss Eliza!”
Except Eliza wasn’t going home. The mayor had stolen her home. After she’d refused his advances, he’d retaliated by seizing her house for “public use.” She’d managed to delay it long enough to get most of her and her family’s possessions out but had been forced to move to an abandoned shack on the mountain overlooking the city. The gaps in the boards had left her cold most nights and had given her mother pneumonia. She would spend nights listening to her mother dying as she looked down on the city she no longer called home. Her resentment and anger grew and developed into a much nastier feeling. One that allowed her to no longer care who lived and who died.
For while it was true that one could use mandrake to heal illness that’s not what Eliza was using it for. Instead she combined it with irises and took it to a well that had been boarded up long ago. She’d removed its cover and now would throw in her potion periodically. When it combined with the water at the bottom, it would create an unnatural rain that would last for days at a time.
Some people just wanted to watch the world burn; Eliza would settle for watching it drown.