Short Story: The Rainy Day Dragon

 The Rainy Day Dragon

Eleven-year-old Cordelia Weatherby had opinions about everything, but her strongest and most passionately held opinions were reserved for the British weather, which she considered a personal affront to her existence and a clear violation of what summer holidays were supposed to provide.

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" she announced to the grey sky above their rented Lake District cottage, where the rain was coming down with the sort of relentless enthusiasm usually reserved for waterfalls, monsoons, and other meteorological phenomena that belonged in tropical climates rather than what was supposed to be a relaxing family break in the English countryside.

The cottage, "Willowmere Retreat," had been described in the rental brochure as "a charming lakeside haven perfect for families seeking tranquil natural beauty and outdoor adventures." What the brochure had failed to mention was that "outdoor adventures" would be limited to watching rain create increasingly creative patterns on the windows, and that "tranquil natural beauty" would be largely obscured by clouds that seemed to have taken up permanent residence over their particular patch of Cumbria.

Inside the cottage, her parents were engaged in what had become their default rainy-day activity: an increasingly competitive game of Monopoly with her eight-year-old sister Poppy, who had developed a talent for creative accounting that would have impressed professional tax advisors and possibly concerned law enforcement officials.

"I'll buy Mayfair," Poppy announced, counting out money with the sort of suspicious efficiency that suggested she'd been conducting unauthorised transactions when nobody was looking.

"Poppy, you don't have enough money for Mayfair," their father, Professor James Weatherby, pointed out with the patient tone of someone who'd been teaching university students for fifteen years and thought he understood the limits of creative mathematics.

"I do if you count my secret investments," Poppy replied, producing a stack of property cards that definitely hadn't been in her possession five minutes earlier.

"What secret investments?" their mother, Dr. Sarah Weatherby, asked with the sort of suspicious interest that came from being a forensic accountant who specialised in detecting financial irregularities.

"The ones I made when you weren't paying attention," Poppy chirped. "I've been running a very successful property development scheme. Also, I think I own the bank now."

Cordelia had abandoned this chaos in favour of having a proper argument with the weather, because someone needed to tell it exactly what she thought of its performance over the past three days. She stood in the cottage garden, wearing her bright yellow wellies and a raincoat that made her look like a very determined daffodil, and glared at the sky with the sort of intensity that suggested she was personally offended by every raindrop.

"You're ruining everything!" she shouted at the clouds, which hung low and grey over the lake like a wet woollen blanket that had given up on life. "It's supposed to be SUMMER! I demand sunshine immediately! Proper sunshine, not that pathetic excuse for light that keeps trying to sneak through the clouds when it thinks nobody's looking!"

The rain continued its relentless assault on her holiday plans, drumming against her hood with what sounded suspiciously like a mocking laugh.

"I want blue skies!" Cordelia continued, warming to her theme. "I want actual warmth that doesn't require three jumpers and a hot water bottle! I want to be able to go outside without needing full waterproof gear! And I definitely want some of that Mediterranean sunshine I keep hearing about in weather forecasts for literally everywhere except here!"

She paused for breath, wiping rain from her face, and noticed something odd. The drumming of raindrops had stopped. Not gradually, the way rain usually eased off, but suddenly, as if someone had turned off a cosmic tap.

The silence was so complete that she could hear her own breathing, the distant sound of her family's Monopoly-related arguments, and something else. Something that sounded like listening.

Then the clouds began to move.

Not the normal, gentle drift of weather systems following predictable meteorological patterns, but a deliberate, purposeful swirling that suggested something with intelligence and opinions was rearranging the sky according to its own dramatic preferences. The grey clouds darkened to charcoal, then to deep purple, then to a colour that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

Lightning began to crackle through the storm system, but this wasn't the usual white-hot flash of normal electrical activity. This lightning was deep purple and seemed to be forming shapes in the sky—geometric patterns that looked almost like... writing? Or possibly very large, very angry facial expressions.

A massive dragon head emerged from the storm clouds, scales the colour of thunderstorms and eyes like captured lightning bolts. It was the sort of dragon that looked like it had been carved from the storm itself, with horns that crackled with electrical energy and a mane that flowed like liquid weather. The creature looked down at Cordelia with the expression of someone who'd been having a perfectly nice nap and was not at all pleased about being woken up by complaints about professional performance.

"DID SOMEONE CALL FOR WEATHER COMPLAINTS?" the dragon boomed, its voice echoing across the lake like thunder that had learned to speak English with a distinctly northern accent. "BECAUSE I AM NIMBUS, THE PERPETUALLY GRUMPY, KEEPER OF SUMMER STORMS, GUARDIAN OF SEASONAL PRECIPITATION, AND CHIEF METEOROLOGICAL OFFICER FOR THIS ENTIRE REGION, AND I HAVE HAD QUITE ENOUGH OF UNGRATEFUL HUMANS MOANING ABOUT MY WORK!"

Cordelia, to her considerable credit, did not run screaming back to the cottage. Instead, she put her hands on her hips in the universal gesture of someone who was prepared to have a proper argument, regardless of whether their opponent was a mythical creature with control over local weather patterns.

"Well, your work is absolutely terrible!" she declared, tilting her head back to glare directly at the enormous dragon hovering above her garden. "It's been raining for three days straight! My holiday is completely ruined! We can't go hiking, we can't have picnics, we can't even sit outside without getting soaked! This is supposed to be summer, not monsoon season!"

"RUINED?" Nimbus roared, descending from the clouds until he was hovering just above the cottage roof, dripping storm water everywhere and causing the building's foundations to vibrate with each word. "I'LL SHOW YOU RUINED! YOU WANT RAIN? I'LL GIVE YOU PROPER RAIN! I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL WEATHER LOOKS LIKE!"

And with that declaration of meteorological war, he opened his massive jaws and began producing the sort of downpour that would have made Noah nervous and caused the Environment Agency to issue emergency flood warnings for the entire Lake District.

Water cascaded from the sky in torrents that turned the cottage garden into a lake, the narrow country lane into a river, and the nearby stream into something that definitely required its own postcode and possibly emergency evacuation procedures. The cottage began to creak ominously as water rose around its foundations, and several very confused sheep appeared to be learning to swim whether they wanted to or not.

"Cordelia!" her mother's voice came from inside the cottage, slightly muffled by the sound of rushing water and what appeared to be a heated discussion about whether Poppy's latest property acquisition was technically legal under standard Monopoly rules. "Why does it sound like we're inside a washing machine that's having an existential crisis?"

"I may have accidentally summoned a weather dragon!" Cordelia called back, watching as Nimbus continued his aquatic tantrum with the sort of professional enthusiasm that suggested he took great pride in his ability to create meteorological chaos. "It's a bit upset about customer feedback!"

"A what now?" her father's voice joined the conversation, followed by the sound of Poppy cheering because she'd apparently just acquired Park Lane through what sounded like increasingly creative interpretations of property law.

The water was now lapping at the cottage windows, and several more sheep were floating past on what used to be the garden fence, looking resigned to their unexpected aquatic adventure. A family of ducks had taken up residence in what used to be the rose garden and seemed quite pleased with the sudden improvement in their local swimming facilities.

Nimbus was clearly enjoying himself, breathing out rain clouds like a demented weather factory, each exhalation producing fresh torrents of water that added to the rapidly expanding flood. His eyes glowed with the satisfaction of someone who was finally getting to demonstrate the full extent of his professional capabilities.

"Right," Cordelia announced, wading through the rapidly rising flood towards the dragon with the sort of determined courage that suggested she'd inherited her mother's talent for confronting difficult situations head-on. "This has gone quite far enough!"

"OH, HAS IT?" Nimbus sneered, pausing his deluge just long enough to look smugly satisfied with his handiwork. "PERHAPS YOU'LL THINK TWICE BEFORE CRITICISING PROFESSIONAL WEATHER MANAGEMENT! I'VE BEEN CONTROLLING PRECIPITATION IN THIS REGION FOR OVER THREE CENTURIES! I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!"

"Professional?" Cordelia spluttered, gesturing at the flooded landscape around them. "You call this professional? You've turned our holiday cottage into Atlantis! My sister's probably developing gills as we speak! Sheep are doing the backstroke in what used to be a perfectly normal field!"

"PERHAPS THEY'LL APPRECIATE THE AQUATIC EXPERIENCE! SWIMMING IS EXCELLENT EXERCISE!"

"They're sheep! The only exercise they're supposed to get is walking around, eating grass and looking picturesque! And my family came here for a relaxing holiday, not to recreate scenes from disaster movies!"

Nimbus paused in his weather production, looking slightly less certain of his position. The massive dragon head tilted to one side, and for a moment, its expression shifted from righteous indignation to something that might have been doubt.

"WELL..." he rumbled, his voice losing some of its thunderous authority, "PERHAPS I WAS A BIT ENTHUSIASTIC WITH THE PRECIPITATION LEVELS..."

"A bit enthusiastic?" Cordelia gestured at the flooded landscape, where several more sheep were now floating in confused circles and a postman was attempting to deliver mail by canoe. "You've created your own weather system! I think I just saw a fish swimming past the living room window! A duck family is nesting in our herb garden!"

The dragon looked around at the aquatic chaos he'd created, taking in the sight of floating sheep, confused wildlife, and what appeared to be a small boat that someone had launched to rescue a cat from a tree that was now more of an island.

"HMPH," he grumbled, his massive form beginning to look somewhat deflated. "PERHAPS I COULD DIAL IT BACK SLIGHTLY..."

"Slightly?" Cordelia's voice rose to match the dragon's volume. "You need to dial it back to 'normal British summer drizzle' before my parents decide we're emigrating to Spain permanently! And before the local emergency services start asking awkward questions about why our holiday cottage has become a flood zone!"

Nimbus began reluctantly sucking the excess water back into his storm clouds, muttering complaints about ungrateful tourists, unreasonable weather expectations, and the general lack of appreciation for professional meteorological artistry. The process was like watching a cosmic vacuum cleaner in reverse, with water spiralling up from the flooded landscape and disappearing back into the dragon's storm system.

Gradually, the flood receded, revealing a landscape that was soggy but no longer submerged. The sheep found solid ground again and immediately began complaining about their unexpected swimming lesson in the sort of indignant bleating that suggested they'd be filing formal complaints with the local farmers. The cottage stopped making alarming creaking noises, and the duck family reluctantly relocated back to the lake where they belonged.

"There," Nimbus said sulkily, his voice now carrying the tone of someone who'd been forced to admit they might have overreacted slightly. "LIGHT SUMMER SHOWER. HAPPY NOW?"

Cordelia looked around at the soggy but no longer flooded landscape. The rain had settled into the sort of gentle patter that actually was quite pleasant, the kind of soft precipitation that made everything look fresh and green without requiring emergency waterproof gear.

"Actually, yes," she said, surprised to discover that she meant it. "Thank you. This is much better."

"DON'T MENTION IT," Nimbus replied, his massive form beginning to fade back into the clouds. "LITERALLY. DON'T MENTION IT TO ANYONE. I HAVE A REPUTATION TO MAINTAIN AS A FEARSOME WEATHER DRAGON. CAN'T HAVE WORD GETTING OUT THAT I'M REASONABLE."

"Your secret's safe with me," Cordelia promised. "But maybe next time someone complains about the weather, you could try explaining your artistic vision before flooding the entire countryside?"

"ARTISTIC VISION?"

"Well, yes. Weather is a form of art, isn't it? You're painting with clouds and rain and sunshine. Maybe people would appreciate it more if they understood what you were trying to create."

Nimbus paused in his retreat to the storm clouds, looking thoughtful. "I... HADN'T CONSIDERED THAT PERSPECTIVE. MOST HUMANS JUST COMPLAIN ABOUT GETTING WET."

"That's because they don't understand that you're creating atmospheric experiences. Like... today could have been 'Dramatic Storm Sequence with Flooding Effects' instead of just 'too much rain.'"

"DRAMATIC STORM SEQUENCE," Nimbus repeated, his voice carrying a note of pleased consideration. "I LIKE THAT. MUCH MORE DIGNIFIED THAN 'WEATHER TANTRUM.'"

"Exactly. You're not having tantrums, you're creating immersive meteorological experiences."

The dragon's expression brightened considerably. "YOU KNOW, YOUNG HUMAN, YOU MIGHT BE THE FIRST PERSON TO UNDERSTAND MY WORK. MOST PEOPLE JUST WANT 'NICE WEATHER' WITHOUT APPRECIATING THE COMPLEXITY OF ATMOSPHERIC COMPOSITION."

"Well, I do appreciate complexity," Cordelia said, which was true. "I just also appreciate being able to go outside without needing a snorkel."

"FAIR POINT. PERHAPS WE COULD COLLABORATE ON FUTURE WEATHER PROGRAMMING. I COULD CREATE MORE... TOURIST-FRIENDLY ATMOSPHERIC EXPERIENCES."

"That sounds brilliant. What did you have in mind?"

Nimbus settled more comfortably in his cloud formation, clearly warming to the topic. "WELL, I'VE BEEN WORKING ON A SERIES I CALL 'GENTLE SUMMER DRAMA'—ENOUGH RAIN TO KEEP EVERYTHING GREEN AND FRESH, BUT WITH REGULAR SUNSHINE BREAKS FOR OUTDOOR ACTIVITIES. ALSO, I'VE BEEN EXPERIMENTING WITH 'COZY EVENING STORMS'—DRAMATIC THUNDER AND LIGHTNING THAT LOOKS IMPRESSIVE BUT DOESN'T ACTUALLY FLOOD ANYTHING."

"Those sound perfect for holiday weather," Cordelia said enthusiastically. "Much better than 'Apocalyptic Downpour with Sheep Swimming.'"

"YES, THAT ONE NEEDS WORK. PERHAPS I COULD SAVE IT FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS."

"Like what?"

"WELL, IF ANYONE EVER COMPLAINS ABOUT MY ARTISTIC VISION AGAIN, I MIGHT NEED TO DEMONSTRATE THE FULL RANGE OF MY CAPABILITIES."

Cordelia grinned. "Just maybe warn them first? Give them a chance to appreciate the artistry before you unleash the full meteorological experience?"

"AGREED. ARTISTIC APPRECIATION REQUIRES PROPER CONTEXT."

And with that, Nimbus disappeared back into the clouds, leaving behind only the gentle patter of what was now genuinely pleasant summer rain and one very satisfied eleven-year-old who had just learned that sometimes the best way to deal with difficult situations was to find common ground, even with grumpy weather dragons.

"Cordelia!" her mother called from inside the cottage, where the sounds of Monopoly-related chaos suggested that Poppy's financial empire was continuing to expand through increasingly creative means. "The weather's cleared up! How lovely!"

Cordelia squelched back towards the cottage in her waterlogged wellies, grinning as she watched the gentle rain create perfect conditions for the sort of atmospheric beauty that made the Lake District famous. Sometimes, she reflected, it paid to have strong opinions about customer service, especially when your complaints led to discovering that weather dragons were actually quite reasonable once you understood their artistic perspective.

From somewhere in the clouds above, she could swear she heard the distant sound of satisfied rumbling, as if Nimbus was already planning his next meteorological masterpiece.