Witches Do That Sometimes by Allison Renner
On the night of the thunderstorm we decide to dance in the rain.
We want to cloak ourselves in black but all we can find is my mother’s funeral dress so Jessamine says she will go out naked, that witches do that sometimes.
The dress hangs off me, hiding my protruding belly and thighs that touch while Jessamine has nothing covering a body that is already shaping into woman.
I push down my resentment and jealousy so the lightning won’t pick it up and flash it across the sky.
By the time we tiptoe to the back door and quietly release the latch, the rain has stopped.
*
On the night of the thunderstorm we decide to dance in the rain.
It’s our graduation and, though we’re both hanging around all summer, it feels like the end.
We rip off our shirts, fling open the car doors, struggle out of our jeans that are already getting soaked by rain.
I see rapture on Jessamine’s face every time the lightning flashes across the sky. I want to know what she’s thinking about. I want it to be me. I close the distance between us and, just as my lips touch hers, I realize the rain has stopped.
*
On the night of the thunderstorm we decide to dance in the rain.
We don’t have much choice since the band takes up the entire tent and they need to stay dry more than we do.
The forecast predicted a sunny day and clear night and was only half wrong. Everyone keeps saying variations of “Not rain on your wedding day!” but the only thing that feels wrong is the crisp white dress now sticking to my body.
I look into the crowd, wanting to see rapture on her face again. But the lightning doesn’t flash across the sky and she’s not there, anyway.
My new spouse touches my shoulder to show me the rain has stopped.
Artist’s Statement
I like seeing stories in things that are often overlooked. I like to step back and see the big picture. I'm a writer and a reader and often escape into words, but I’m also a photographer. I want my writing to convey an image just as strongly as a photo will. I want readers to feel like they’ve stepped into the picture my words create; I want to give them the space to explore.
Allison Renner is an editor for Flash Fiction Magazine and the Publicity & Reviews Manager for Split/Lip Press. Her fiction and photography has appeared in or is forthcoming from the Daily Drunk, Six Sentences, Rejection Letters, Versification, Thimble Literary Magazine, and vulnerary magazine. Her informational book, Library Volunteers: A Practical Guide for Librarians, was published by Rowman & Littlefield in 2019.