The Chipmunk in the Rainstorm


I'm just this guy, you know?

To expand on that, I am also the following...

- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)

- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch

- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes

- Always too hard on myself

The rain poured hard. The thunder boomed and the lightening flashed.

It was all very violent seeming.

The small chipmunk cowered in her little nest.

She had hoped the rain would let up and the thunder and lightening would cease, but at some point she knew that regardless of the conditions that she was going to have to go out and brave whatever conditions were present in order to provide for her family of little babies.

She waited as long as she could but she could wait no more. She knew that she had to be strong for her babies and get what it was that they all needed to survive.

She tried to dart between raindrops which in her mind was a good idea, but in practice didn't work as well as she felt.

She collected as much in her cheeks as she could before a particularly bright bit of lightening and loud bit of thunder scared her back into her little hole with her little babies safely resting in it.

She had provided for them for another day and by her judgment that was certainly enough.


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