Dark. It was dark outside. Rain storms were supposed to come that afternoon. Boy sat on the front porch waiting for the downfall. He wanted all his sins washed away. Had felt bad about the night before. Guilty. Like he’d done something wrong. And, he just sat there waiting for his soul to be re-born; born again.

Old man looked at him from the trailer window. Saw him sitting out there with his hands stretched out to the sky. Rocking back and forth. Getting ready to take in the holy spirit. Dad laughed as he drank his coffee and kept peaking through the blinds. Looking at his son. They called him the village idiot.

Thunder was coming in from the north. There was no lightening just yet. A drop or two fell. Boy prayed for forgiveness of his sins; drinking, lying, cheating, living an irresponsible life. He wanted that water to come down on him hard. Drenched in the blood of the lamb. A real baptism. His eyes were shut tight.

The old man opened the door. Asked, what are you doing out here? You’re going to catch a cold and get us all sick. Boy kept his eyes shut and his hands lifted up to the sky. What’re you waiting on some kind of miracle? The boy began to speak in tongues as thunder and lightening clashed in the sky. Get inside boy, the father demanded. I said get inside. The rain began to fall. I ain’t telling you again, the old man put his arms around him and wrestled him to the ground. Boy kept on blabbering in some kind of incoherent speak. I said get inside, rain fell harder. Boy got bunched up in a fetal position. The two of them laid there in the dirt as the storm passed through. No more rain. His soul was clean. The old man held on to him like when he was a baby. The jibber-jab of tongues stopped.

Dad got up and left him there in the front yard. Neighbors looked out there windows. A dog barked. Salvation had come.

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