An Ant and a Raindrop

The rain fell, a soft rhythmic patter that echoed gently through the dark hallways. Thunder made its roaring call across the gray sky, heralding the coming of the storm. Shivering in his cold, stone cell, the prisoner huddled against his cot, and pulled his tattered cloak tightly about his haggard frame as he stared up at the small opening high in his prison wall that served as a window.

Suddenly, a faint movement in the corner of the small room caught his attention. A small ant, almost unnoticeable against the dark floor struggled valiantly to make its way to the cell door, burdened with a small crumb upon its back. The prisoner instinctively raised his hand, to flatten the insect, but some inner working of his soul stopped this action.

For so long he had been trapped in the bowels of this makeshift hell on earth, and for too long had screams been his music, and cold stone been substitute for the warmth of human contact. With a start, he realized that this ant was the first free living thing he had seen in years. Cupping his raised hand, he allowed the small laborer to crawl into his thin hands, and closed his eyes at the sensation of it walking across his skin. He smiled softly as the days of old came flooding through his body, like a splash of warm water, as the tiny feet of the ant churned up memories he thought had left him long ago.

The prisoner felt a strange rush of gratitude to the small insect, thankful for the small gift it offered amongst all his pain and anguish. Opening his eyes, he lowered his hand gently and deposited the small creature at the door of his cell, and watched with some sadness as it slipped away forever.

With a sigh, the prisaned back against his cot, and allowed the creeping melancholy to wipe away his moment of happiness and hope. The rain had begun to fall in real earnest, and the dull patter of rain had risen to a true orchestra of percussion as the storm unleashed upon the thick stone walls of the prison.

Waiting in the infinite gloom of his incarcerated life, a slight glimmer in the corner of his cell made him start. Hanging in the corner of his cell, like a small star bound to the dark heavens, was a single raindrop.

The prisoner stared at it in wonder, and started to make his way underneath it, so he could catch the precious jewel as it fell, lest it shatter.

But before he reached it, the diadem of light lost its place on the ng and fell from its precarious hanging. It hit the floor, and smattered into a thousand miniscule facets before disappearing into the numerous cracks on the floor. The prisoner stared in horror, his jaw slack, and eyes saddened by the loss of his precious jewel.

As he stared at the place on the floor where the raindrop had left its ethereal mark, he started in sudden realization. Unexpectedly he laughed, a mad laugh that echoed wildly down the halls. He knew the dementors would come, but for the first time in a long while, he did not care. Head titled back, he simply laughed, his first true laugh in years, at the absurdity of it all.

It had taken all this - all these years of agony and horror - to make him truly recognize the simple beauty of a raindrop and an ant.