The Truest Pleasure Read Online Free PDF

all that had happened, by the thunder and roar of the coming rain.
    A big poplar was up ahead. It was the yellow poplar beside the strawberry bed, the one we used to call Joe’s Poplar because he would slip away from hoeing strawberry vines and set in the shade there. It was one of those poplars that seem to go up to the sky and look like they’ve been there since the beginning of creation. I pulled Tom toward the tree.
    Rain crossed the river and was coming in walls of gray over the fields and hemlocks by the house, advancing up the branch.
    The rain hit us not ten steps from the poplar. The drops felt big as nickels and quarters as they stung my neck and shoulders. We dashed through the red dirt and stood close to the trunk of the poplar, out of breath and already wet. The drops had soaked through my blouse. Big drops hammered on the leaves above us.
    â€œHow come rain is so cold if it comes from where lightning is?” I said.
    â€œMaybe falling cools it off,” Tom said.
    I shivered as more drops soaked through my blouse. I had let go of his hand when we got under the tree. We stood up close to the sooty bark of the poplar.
    â€œThis rain will wash the dust off the corn,” I said.
    â€œHave to wait a week longer to pull fodder,” Tom said.
    A cricket, the first cricket I had noticed, started chirping at the foot of the poplar. It was a big black meadow mole with a mellow note. “Six weeks till frost,” I said. I looked at Tom and he leaned over and kissed me. He put his hand under my chin and his mustache tickled my nose and the sides of my mouth. But his lips was firm. Just then a big cold drop hit me on the forehead and run down my nose. We pulled apart and laughed.
    There was a flash, like the air was stung. It felt like the air prickled and crackled. Lightning had hit a pine on the hill. Thunder shoved us and we saw the pine tree catch fire as it busted all to pieces. Limbs and big splinters went flying. A smoking piece of wood landed in the mud just in front of us.
    Rain blowed in right under the poplar then, and lightning hit a tree further up the hill. “We better get away from here,” I said, “before this tree is hit.”
    â€œAin’t no place safe,” Tom said. The air had a sharp smell, like scorched resin and hot sap in wood. But there was something like bleach too, or smelling salts that burn your eyes.
    Lightning kept hitting like it was walking around us. And the thunder made us feel inside a big drum. “Let’s go,” I said and took Tom’s hand. We started running, and rain hit my face in splashes that could have been throwed from buckets.
    There is a strange feeling of protection when you are out in a storm. The rain and wind drive you deep into the shelter ofyourself. Even with rain crashing on your face it’s like you’re way inside and watching the storm.
    The road to the house swung round the hill, toward the barn, but the shortest way was to cut through the pasture. Once we got past the bull pasture we climbed the slick rail fence and run by the molasses furnace.
    Lightning hit other places higher on the hill. Fire appeared to leap out of the trees to meet the bolts coming from the sky. “The Lord help us,” I said, and pulled Tom along the wet trail.
    But just when we got past the molasses furnace I heard this other roar. It was the sound fire makes when chimney soot catches. Or it sounded like a train going through a tunnel.
    â€œWait!” Tom said, and pulled me back. I don’t know how he saw what was happening. He jerked me back so fast I almost slipped on the muddy trail. And then I saw this bucket Pa had left by the furnace go flying in the air like it was swung on a rope. And next a barrel for water to rinse the skimming ladle went soaring up in a curve. The roof of the furnace shed shot up and away.
    It come to me this was the end of time, but instead of the souls of this world took up in Rapture