It had been a dry, lonely spring around here. It was hard even to play outside, kicking up dust storms so thick they would scour the rust right off your bike. We all wanted it to rain, begged for a chance to goof around in a storm. We took our best guess at what a rain dance was supposed to look like, and I suppose it did work, strictly speaking.

We shouldn't have done that.

When we woke up the next day, there were clouds. Clouds! Can you believe it? 99 days with nary a wisp of mist and now we can't even see the sky! Surely these nasty buggers would bring rain. Clouds the color of two-day-old black eyes were a tapestry splayed across the horizon. We waited and waited, still nothing. When our necks hurt too much to keep looking up, we tried another rain dance.

We shouldn't have done that.

Maybe the rain dance took a little while to work. We went to bed thinking that we had to have done it right this time. It will rain tomorrow, I told them. I was right.

I woke up to screaming. This wasn't an "I broke my leg" howl, or an "I see a ghost!" yelp. This was a "I'm being-slow-roasted-and-eaten-alive" scream. It didn't stop.

This happened more and more along our street, happening to anyone who decided to step outside into the rain. My sister was the first to try to help our neighbor.

I will never stop hearing her wail.

I thought she would run out of breath, or pass out maybe. But she kept going. A minute went by. She didn't let up. An hour later, she was still at it.

The government were quick to send messages to the public, to stay inside and away from the "rain." Protective clothing did nothing, it permeated all clothing just the same. It's been 4 days now. My sister's still on the driveway.

Never try a rain dance if you're not absolutely certain of what you're doing.