Janyil looked outta the window that was dripping wet from outside because of the mist and the storm roaring outside, pushing every plant around as it pleased and bending trees until it seemed like they would break.
She pouted and placed her head on the ledge of the window as she watched a worm emerge from the ground and then groaned as she grew bored of watching the worm.
“Don’t groan, dear, happy kids don’t groan.” Sounded the voice of her father from the Sofa in front of the fireplace in the Livingroom. He was reading a book he had borrowed from the neighbor, “The Man from Parthenopia”. A past bestseller to read for every age.
Janyil walked over to the side of her father and placed her hands onto the arm of the couch, “But it’s so boring in here, father!” She said quietly.
He glanced over to her and slammed the book shut to place it on the small commode next to the Sofa. He took a small glance outside and then back at her.
“How about your dolls, dear?”
She looked down. “I don’t want to play with them now.”
Her father nodded, “How about I tell you a story about the rain?” He offered.
Her eyes lightened up and she went to grab the Armchair and pulled herself up and seated herself on it. “What kind of story?”
Her father rubbed the back of his head; “An old story, dear, about the rain,” He pressed, “Like I just said.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Alright, we start back in the Beginnings of time. . . “
-----------
The World was finally recovering from its near self-destruction but some parts of Mother Earth were still burning.
She decided to put out those few fires too and spat on them and in her fearsome power she created by accidents the sea and the oceans on herself.
“Ew, she spit on herself.”
I know, dear. So, soon, she grew tired of it and decided to shake off the spit away into the sky.
She managed to shake some of it away into the sky where they turned into clouds but she can’t shake away all of them and still tries to do that to these days creating the Tsunamis and Earthquakes around the world.
“She shouldn’t have spit on herself.”
She was on fire.
“It’s still gross.”
What happened, happened and as the earth shook, the first God of the Earth came to be from the clouds that formed from her spit. Issak was the name that he thought of first and so he named himself like that.
He is well-meaning, friendly but can be fierce and relentless, sometimes downright fanatical and often losses track of himself.
Issak walked the clouds naked and looked down upon the earth which he called his second-home next to its skies.
Fearfully, he saw how the spit distracted Mother Earth and decided that if she never could get rid of it, he would be safe.
So, he stomped down at the clouds he stood upon and let it rain for the first time.
“Ewwww, he put the spit back on her.”
It’s gross, isn’t it?
“No, it’s smart. Spit on your enemies!”
That’s not what this story tries to teach and that’s not how a lady behaves!
“Aww, Pardon me, father.”
. . . So, Issak renamed the spit of the earth to water for it was full of life and deserving of a better name and every time earth lost some of its water he put it back on the ground. Thanks to him, he caused the plants and the animals of the earth and many more gods came to him and brought us many more things. . .
“But that’s a story for another time.” He grabbed her by the hips and put her down on her feet.
Janyil giggled for a moment until she was put down and then asked her father nearly demanding, “But I want to hear more!”
“I shouldn’t spoil you so much. . .” He glanced over to the belt hanging on his wall thoughtfully. “Ehh, but no, you wanted to go play outside, right?”
“But it’s spitting.” She giggled again.
“Well, it seems that Issak brought enough water down to the earth again. By the way, don’t call it that. It’s indecent, little lady.” He wiggled with his finger.
She turned to the window and saw the sun shining down onto the now wet planes.
“Yay! Father, can I go play outside then?”
“After you do your chores now. Go help your mother put out the laundry now that it stopped raining. After that you can help.” He roughed her hair up and she quickly went away with a pout.
He sighed and took up his book again with a smirk.
“Spitting. Ha.”