When the Cure Becomes Worse than the Disease

It's been raining for two days straight. No matter what I do I can't see how to stop what I started. Honestly, it's hard to see anything through the wall of water beyond my window. The house across the street was little more than a looming blur and the street itself, a quick moving river four inches deep. Everything, from the trees to the cars, seemed darker, more somber, almost mournful. The sheer density of the rainfall was unfamiliar to California but I had lived in Alabama for two years where they called this kind of storm a toad strangler.

Fog from my breath crept across the window pain and miserably I wiped it away leaving long smears. The fires had been so bad. Whether they were started by downed PG&E lines or started by arsonists didn't matter. Fifty percent of the state was on fire. Desperate to try anything, I followed these instructions to "summon rain" I found on reddit. I never thought they'd actually work.

Since then I've messaged the original poster a dozen times but they haven't responded.