LoBD

Oh, but the storm is invigorating, is it not? A meek and fragile adolescent cowers in dread under the covers, in the midst of a horrid downpour. The poor child cannot conquer his abhorrent fears, and any hopes of doing so are put to rest when the storm marks its presence with a single, ear-splitting crackle. The sky is suddenly divided into two; blinding tendrils of light erupt from the chasm and lacerate the earth. Is this the end for all? But alas, there is hope. The storm allows just a moment's reprieve and the lightning is retracted, back into the gorge. It only invigorates those willing to brave it; for others, it provides the most absolute terror.

~

The poor child simply could not cope! If only the heinous torrent would blow over. A lone tear welled up in the pure child's previously flooded tear ducts, and it slowly snaked its way down his freckled face to the tip of his nose. A single droplet stained the bed. A million droplets stained the earth.

A single voice rang out in his conscience. "Face your fears."

At the risk of tarnishing the bed with a flood of pitiful tears, he scurried, in a mad dash, out of the sanctuary beneath his covers. The floor boards creaked in sync with the thunderous roaring of the ocean falling from the sky. In a bizarre spectacle, the door burst open with a gust of frigid air, freezing the boy in his tracks, and it slammed against the wall. As he plopped to the ground, another wave of tears began to circulate through his tear ducts. He simply did not believe in himself enough to do it, but there was somebody who believed in him.

"Be strong," that someone told him.

His legs became rigid as he lifted himself up. A split second later, he charged toward the doorway, against the odds, as a stray bolt of destruction penetrated the consecrated grounds. His room, and soon his house, were lit ablaze instantly as he narrowly avoided being struck. He nearly slipped but regained his balance and continued sprinting across the disintegrating sanctuary. The walls, glowing with death, served as a light, lining his trajectory towards the entrance of his house.

He flung himself against the front door and it opened without hesitation. He ended up plopping three steps down, into the unidentifiable earth. The flooded mess of a ground held him in place as the entire residence burst into flames behind him, but it was soon doused by the descending sea. He realized he was still gripping a small blanket in absolute dread, but he gulped and knew he had to do it. He tossed the blanket aside where it was buried into the sea and quickly washed away. Standing tall, he crouched in fear. His contradictory ambivalence was frightening. He sought to be brave, and his mentality sought to crush his ambitions.

"Be brave," he heard.

He turned around to see what remained of his house, which was essentially nothing.

"No turning back," he thought, finally his own voice speaking.

He stepped forward, unsure of where to go, but sure that he would conquer the storm. Instead, he slipped and landed on his back, forcing him to face the unidentifiable sky. He was instantly blinded by its vicious pellets of liquid, and it gurgled hideously at him. But there were no more tears to be taken by the storm; he would not give any more.

Suddenly he could already feel the rain lessening and becoming softer as it splattered on his cold and drenched skin. He stretched his arms out to the sky as if to grab it, and then let them plop to the mud all around him. Whispering something inaudible, even to himself, he let out a sigh of relief.

A tiny smile crept up the sides of his face as the thick globules of rain became meager strands. The furious claws of lightning which sliced through the sky so viciously seemed distant, leaving only faint echoes. But one final, heinous strand of rain found its way into his sensitive eye socket. He shut his eyes and rubbed furiously for just a few seconds. If he did not choose to open his eyes afterward, he could have saved himself from a bit of trouble, and a lot of grief. Perhaps he could not even tell what he saw next, but it hit him like a freight train.

A single light emanated from the scene, slashing furiously in revenge. Sent to purge the area of the unfit to survive, the ferocious claw of the storm took something for itself before leaving the scene: A life.

~

The storm stirred up again and continued raging on as monstrously as before. Not a single life stirred now.