Ride the rain?" I said, repeating the words Heavensley had casually tossed my way.

I caught them with open ears but was having a hard time digesting their truths. I was being introduced to the fantastical and because of this, my innate skepticism took hold of my thought.

"Everything has a layer, Nep."

He spoke a name very few called me. Correction- he spoke a name very few were permitted to call me. A pang of longing for the man who coined me so jolted through my meat. Dad.

"Why did you call me that?" I snapped, my lips curled into a frown, my eyes full of suspicion. Strange, I know, that a nickname would raise the red flag in my mind and not Crispen's taking on the shapes of weathers and feathered folk.

His face split in two, not literally though I'm sure it could have; his pearly whites nearly matching his skin in tone. Mr. Heavensley had smiles to spare, and if I could return them, I would have done so with this one. Speaking my father's words was not a matter for smiles.

"I know things about you as you know things about me."

His answer unsatisfactory- though to be honest, I don't think any answer he could have given would have been satisfactory- I willed my legs to lead me to the door. Crispen clamored to block my escape; an odd block of obsidian meeting the unrelenting torrent of my river. I stared him down, every fiber of anger pulsating in the blue of my eyes, the heat on my cheeks still the cause of Crispen, but this shade of red, didn't bother me much. I reached for the door knob. He reached for my hand.

Immediately I swatted it away. I realized I still had his jacket wrapped around my body and as if it could burn me, I threw it off; it landing in a puddle of water and dust on the floor.

The crows overhead protested my actions, squawking their anger in unison. Crispen's eyes went to his jacket, then to me, and then back to the jacket. He was frantic right then, a feeling I never thought he could experience and I watched, enjoying his panic.

I know, I know. It was horrible. And I have apologized for this later, rest assured. But understand, my father was a subject very few broached because it soured me so, and to have Crispen tread there-a stranger, no less- and with such nonchalance, made me furious. If I could have woven magic to summon a weather, I would have become a tornado.

"I meant no offense," he pleaded, his hand gently on my shoulder. "I just wanted to know how it felt."

I eyed him cautiously, "How what felt?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the either, becoming an ocean of uncertainty; if he wanted me to trust him, he would have to answer.

"Calling someone by the reverse. There's intimacy in doing so."

His words made me freeze while they pulled a memory into view.

"Why do you call me Nep, dad? That's not a nickname for Peneloper."  Daddy laughed and touseled my hair.

"Peneloper's a strange name for a girl already. Besides, there's power in the reverse."

Why did Crispen's words echo my father's? Were they connected somehow? Or had my father known of layers? Perhaps even traversed them?

Crispen pulled on my sleeve, leading me back to the rain buckets. His words had removed all my pluck and venom. I had become a breeze, a calming brook, no more a tempest of nature to avoid at all costs.

I stared at the buckets; they were all swollen and overflowing now, the water seeping into the floorboards, forcing the cockroaches to seek higher ground.

I watched as the armored army made their way up stairs, ever cautious not to disturb Crispen's cassette collection. I stood behind Crispen, his hand still wrapped around my top, afraid that if he let go I would disappear.

"The rain's about to stop."

He looked toward the sky. Grey clouds hung low overhead, still pregnant with precipitation from what I observed, no sign of the downpour stopping any time soon. But this boy, this child of rain and crow, would be a far better judge of weathers than I.

"I want to show you," he began, turning toward me, releasing his hold on me and opting to offer his hand instead, droplets of rain making tiny pools in the creases of his skin.

"Peneloper Auttsley, open your eyes."

What a silly thing to say, Mr. Heavensley.

My eyes were already open. But as he said my name, his voice changed and as it did so, so did the world. The changes were imperceptible but relevant. The colors grew more vivid. Like I had been tuned in to a rainbow that I'd never seen before, shades of no names, highlighting the house, and making the shadows deeper. Crispen grew more vivid too. His eyes went from coals to diamonds, a blinding light exuding from them.

He was off, but in the most fascinating way, and I felt the air pulse with electricity that grew tighter, heavier, thicker. I'd never felt the air or objects around me emanate such life. Did you know that air on rainy days, tastes of ripe strawberries and lime? I hadn't. Not until I had taken Crispen's hand.

The rain kept falling, though now it too, was mindful where it fell, falling around us. The coin still tightly in my grasp, reacted to the atmospheric change and grew with it, gaining heat and weight. It began to sing. The rain, the room, they too sang.

The crows that swarmed around us sang, and it was in this moment I realized he and I were floating, the notes of the song ushering us forward. As the crows passed around us, I saw them smiling with peeled back beaks, their eyes of gold reassuring me all would be okay. Even Genesis gave off a warmth that told my insides not to worry. I wasn't going break. I was going to see.

Before I could fully understand what happened, the up was down, and giant clear orbs were falling around us in between blurred flashes of silver.

"Which one?" Heavensley asked, his voice downright giddy. My brain didn't understand what he had meant but my liver seemed to know instantly. "To the left" it demanded, and so that's what I told Crispen. To the left was a clear orb, smaller than the other ones-falling faster because of its tiny stature- and Crispen flew us towards it, allowing us to be engulfed.

Once inside, I saw with clear eyes what the silver blurs had been. They were insects, about half my size in stature, with bulbous human heads, curled red antennae and silver armored bodies. They had wings that ran the whole of their backs and they fluttered back and forth, rolling the orbs downward. Crispen released my hand as I watched from inside the rain, the little creatures whose hard work made water tumble to the ground.

"What is this?" I asked, fully engrossed by the bustling little rain rollers.

"It's a layer," he replied, molding the water together, making himself a seat opposite where I stood.

"We're riding the rain," I said, mostly to myself, as if saying the words would solidify the truth in all this.

"This is very real, Peneloper," Crispen said, his eyes closed, boredom oozing from his limbs. He looked as though he wanted to melt and he maybe he could.

"And what of those insects? What are they?" Too much an owl. Moreso, inside the rain. But could you blame me?

"They're Zipkinn. Pushers of rain. A hard working and dedicated bunch."

"They're adorable," I remarked, watching one slip, dust itself off, and hurry to the drop that threatened to go off course. A bead of sweat appeared between its large black eyes which it swatted away with a dainty, gloved hand.

"They live in the Livi with the Snaughfleurs, and come out when the pressure is right," Crispen yawned-yes, yawned- and outstretched his limbs. I was certain he was going to melt. And what was I to do until he decided to solidify again?

"What's Livi and Snaughfleurs?" I asked, walking over to him, my feet never sinking into the rain, and gave him a good kick to his calf. The muscle was soft, like a well worn mattress, his clothes starting to dissolve into the rain. I had not wanted him to leave me alone.

"The Livi- your clouds, I guess. And Snaughfleurs oversee the winter months."

His voice grew distant. I rushed to my knees to shake him stable.

"We have a long time to fall," he said, his eyes open and back to being coal. "Nothing beats a nap in a raindrop."

Crispen turned on his side, his clothes not dry, but not getting wetter, the mound of water embracing his head.

"I don't melt," he assured me. "Not since that one time anyway," he finished, his eyes closed, sleep agreeing with him immediately.

I hovered above him for a moment before returning to watch the Zipkinn outside. The few who drove this droplet peered in: one looked surprised, another looked annoyed, and the last waved. I returned his (or her) gesture- my first interaction with folk from other layers- hoping my weight hadn't made their jobs more difficult.

Soon enough, I called for sleep, a yawn escaping my mouth absorbed by the raindrop. Afraid Crispen still might melt away, I moved next to him and did as he had done- gathering the water around me into a mound suitable for a pillow.

Curled up next to him, back-to-back, I found my water pillow to be the utmost delightful, and almost instantly did my eyes flutter close, welcoming home a nap inside the rain.

-------------------------------------------------------

A History on the Zipkinn

Zipkinn are tiny, lovely creatures, similar in stature to their highly fantasized cousins, the fae. They have heads, arms, and legs that resemble those on humans but they are largely accepted as an insect kind.

Because of their jobs, they wear heavily armored bodysuits, protecting the fleshly abdomens underneath from rupturing during the heavy rain runs of the spring. Few injuries have ever been recorded though, because Zipkinn are known to be obsessively meticulous.

Their red antennae enable them to telepathically link with one another allowing them the ability to coordinate (in perfect sync) the delicate dance that is rain running. Their bodies are sensitive to pressure changes and because of this, they are able to sense when a rain is necessary.

Their winter counterpart, Snaughfluers, control the colder runs, when rain is turned to flake. This is a gradual takeover, both the Zipkinn and Snaughfluer having great admiration for the other, thus causing the dangerous phenomenon known as freezing rain.

Mind you these creatures that make homes  in the Livi, never mean to cause harm. They are simply living according to their nature just as you and I do every single day.