Capsule Stories Spring 2020 Edition: Sleepless Rainy Nights

By Capsule Stories

You hear the droplets splatter on the ground, first once, then again, then a million times over, making music like only nature can. Rain hits your windshield on your way to work. Your jacket clings to your skin. Socks soaked through. Books soggy around the edges. The trees sway above you, but you’re afraid to look up at the sky—angry

• Language: English
• Publisher: Capsule Stories
• Release date: Mar 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781734324631

Book preview

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CAPSULE STORIES

Spring 2020 Edition

Published exclusively by Capsule Stories

Masthead

Natasha Lioe, Founder and Publisher

Carolina VonKampen, Publisher and Editor in Chief

Cover art by Matthew Torres

Book design by Carolina VonKampen

Ebook ISBN: 978-1734324631

© Capsule Stories LLC 2020

All authors retain full rights to their work after publication.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or used in any manner without written permission of Capsule Stories except for use of quotations in a book review.

Contents

Capsule Stories

Letters from the Editors

Prologue

Droplets - Niamh McNally

Ode to a Rainstorm - Benjamin Middendorf

Fishing in the Dark - Larry Griggs

Bullfrogs - James Croal Jackson

Cascadian Spring - Juleigh Howard-Hobson

Old Farmhouse Window, In the Rain - Juleigh Howard-Hobson

Blow - Isabella J Mansfield

when I become your thunderstorm - Tianna G. Hansen

A Bed under the Rains - Fabrice Poussin

When I Am Naked - Alolika A. Dutta

My Body Is a Warehouse - Alolika A. Dutta

Charring Light - Karin Hedetniemi

empty promises - Isabella J Mansfield

Virga - Isabella J Mansfield

This Weather, Am I Right? - Isabella J Mansfield

everything is mom - Ada Pelonia

Sleepless - Cassia Hameline

Dark Matters - Kushal Poddar

the prescription - Lee Clark Zumpe

Thinking of You - Lola Gaztañaga Baggen

Crossed Lines - Sy Brand

It's Winter in Edinburgh - Sy Brand

Rain Cleaver - Sy Brand

Hydrophobia - Elizabeth Ruth Deyro

When Girls Learn to Laugh - Elizabeth Ruth Deyro

a Drop, a Flood - Eleanor Capaldi

drown (me) - Montana Leigh Jackson

Leaving Juliette - Eilidh G Clark

Contributors

Editorial Staff

Submission Guidelines

Letters from the Editors

Rain means so many different things to different people. Even to me, it depends what state of mind I’m in for how it affects me. Sometimes, rain can be cleansing. It has the power to wash away my burdens and serves as a cosmic sign that whatever I’m holding on to is best let go. Other times, rain is an excuse to stay home and get cozy with a book. Sometimes rain understands my despair better than my therapist can. Rain can mean whatever you want it to be. But one thing’s for sure: rain, in all the meaning we ascribe to it, is worth writing about.

—Natasha Lioe, Founder and Publisher

Wait until a dark, stormy night when you just can’t fall asleep, sneak out to your favorite chair or couch, and read this edition by lamplight as the rain pounds against the window. Experience life’s cleansing rains and blustery storms with these writers, and feel what they feel. Feel the raindrop balancing on your fingertip; feel the expectant energy the storm brings; feel the weariness of staying up all night, unable to sleep. We hope you enjoy this Spring 2020 Edition of Capsule Stories and the wonderful works these writers contributed.

—Carolina VonKampen, Publisher and Editor in Chief

Prologue

Sleepless Rainy Nights

You hear the droplets splatter on the ground, first once, then again, then a million times over, making music like only nature can. Rain hits your windshield on your way to work. Your jacket clings to your skin. Socks soaked through. Books soggy around the edges. The trees sway above you, but you’re afraid to look up at the sky—angry, sad, romantic, calming. All at once. With no sign of it ending.

The rain distorts the world around you, your eyes peering through windows that only show your reflection, tears streaming down the face that peers back at you. Your head on a pillow, staring up at the ceiling, wondering when the silence will come.

In the morning, you wake up and it’s gone. The trees stand a little taller, the grass a little longer; the driveway is still wet. The storm is over, but the world remembers.

Droplets

Niamh