Thunder Calls

Hello Everyone!

This short comes to you via three random words, as chosen by a word generator. The only restriction was their number, so I shall click on the tab now and reveal them to myself, and to you:

1. NERVE
2. STORM
3. BLOCK

So let's get to it! Let's see where these words shall take us...

Now.

*

A flash.

A clash.

A crash.

The night was shattered by brilliance as a thunderbolt stung the charcoal horizon.

I had been watching the rain for some time now, trying to glimpse the scene beyond the torrential static. The minutes pressed on into untracked time as I watched on, and thought on. My worries languished in the serenity of such madness; were drowned and outmoded in this wondrous dance of elements.

If I had my way, it would rain every day. The booming of thunder; the whipcrack of lightning: each could be forsaken in turn. But as for the rest--the hammering and needling downpour; the soft and mysterious gloom--such would bring me to rejoice if their presence was deemed more satisfactory beyond necessitation.

It is an elemental love, I suppose; an elementary faculty. It has been with me for so long that it may even draw power from the very wellspring of my creation. Be it a fancy of imagination, truly, I could not say.

The cycle came once more, and a bolt of lightning, as sure as the Sun and as cold as the Moon, shot down from the Heavens.

-- The silent party rejoiced and cheered. The echoes of voices rumbled beneath the still.

And, still, I remained...alone. Alone with my thoughts solely to guide me and enthrall me.

Time passed even further beyond my reach, and that span untracked festered and turned to ash. The rain, remained, my only friend. It flowed in streams upon my window--like tears of pane, one might say.

Did such things have will to bargain? Was it voice that choked the great divide? Were even tears a mechanism of human invention, and that alone?

The storm raged on beyond the glass as the absent thunder rose once more in charge. A succession of bolts struck out of the dark, like the discharge of nerves no longer hidden. Upon some distant canopy, a faint hue ignited--and shortly was spent. Fright struck a chord in me then, even for the briefest of moments. In times like these, I thanked God for the rain.

It continued to pour long into the night, and without further evidence of fire, I was pulled forth beyond the borders of slumber.

*

A blazing dawn stung my eyes as I crossed over sleep's opposing border. I shielded my eyes from its confounded rays, and pulled the covers over my head. I would block the day from my eyes if I could, and lay in wait for blissful night.

If only the rain could have stayed. Days were not complete without it. Without the fog; the mystery; the glow of...

How I yearned to fill in that gap; to forsake even the day for a call to my plight. What good was a light with no gloom to beset it? What good was a day when darkness within could not be contested?

The rays breached playfully my desperate shield; teasing; demanding; knowing full well I would have my comeuppance.

There was always a storm, you see. I was its eye. We were its eyes. But power is lost amongst the strengths of its peers. And no freedom is gained in the midst of a crowd. There is only what separates the puzzle and its pieces to witness, and acquire. There is only the animal to unleash, and the ruin to confer.

The prize, you see, is not as it seems.

The gold, in truth, has faltered.

*

\m/, (Thanks for reading!!) B']