It continued to rain cats and dogs, and as expected, the river began to carry Dennis's limp body away. Unconscious and bruised, little Dennis paid the price for survival with every rock he hit along the way. His misery dragged on until the rain finally slowed. About thirty minutes later, the downpour came to a halt, leaving behind a restless current and a soaked world.
By sheer twist of fate, Dennis's battered body drifted along until it reached the front of a stranger's home,an old wooden house nestled near the riverbank.
As dawn broke, the sun peeked from the east, painted with hues of soft peach and orange, its light returning after a long, thunderous night.
Out came Mr. Garry, the homeowner, to fetch some firewood. A man in his late fifties, Garry was no old geezer to mess with. His age may say "retired," but his muscles screamed "wilderness pro." A lifetime hunter with calloused hands and sharp instincts, he was up before the birds.
His wife, Mrs. Jasmine, was nine years younger and just as sharp—well, sharp-tongued, at least. With one eye lost in a freak accident (long story, short version: never clean a crossbow drunk), she'd become a master of dramatic overreactions and random yelling. Her mood swings had more turns than the river that delivered Dennis.
Years of childlessness hadn't broken them,though it did lead to some very creative marital arguments. Despite their, uh, lively love life, no child had ever arrived. But fate, with its twisted sense of humor, had other plans.
As Garry wandered near the riverbank, axe in hand and brain half-awake, he spotted something unusual.
"JASMINE!!" he hollered. "Get out here!"
A groggy voice called back from the house, "What is it now, Garry? Did a deer steal your pants again?"
"Just come see what I found!"
Moments later, Jasmine shuffled out, wearing her nightgown like battle armor. With one good eye squinting and the other just... existing, she stomped over to where Garry was bent.
"There's a kid here," Garry said, still stunned. "Wounded... but breathing. Can you believe it? After all these years of nothing... now this?"
Jasmine bent over the boy, frowning skeptically. "I don't think he's human."
Garry shot her a glare. "What kind of crap is that to say?"
"I'm just saying! What kind of kid falls from the sky, survives a storm, and washes up like laundry?"
Garry looked at her, exasperated. "If that's not divine delivery, I don't know what is."
With cautious hands and heavy hearts, they carried the boy inside,unknowing that this strange child would bring storms far wilder than last night's rain.