My Storm Maiden

Lightning flashed as the hailstones smashed and torrents splashed against the rattling windows and doors. Startled, I screamed, dropping my favorite crystal teacup, shards of clear Czech crystal skittering across the barren wood floor of white pine, well-worn. As I kneeled to retrieve the pieces of wet glass, the storm raged on, and the window above me lit with a double flash. Suddenly, I saw her, the Maiden of Storms; I knew my love had finally returned.

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄

Dropping back to the slickened floor, the shards fracture further. As if in a trance, I B-lined directly for the door. Grasping the handle, releasing the bolt, insensible of any danger, or the wet, or the cold, I freed the door. Letting it swing wide, a hole was born in the thin wood paneling. The force with which the door blew forth was staggering, generating a pop like a car misfiring. Dashing forward, I exited my once cozy cabin with a smile and a glazing glare. Wearing naught but my long white gown and robe, a specter I blew in the gale. Pale arms around my face and head, protecting it from whipping branches like a halo in the dark.

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄

Without dramatic backlighting, her visage rapidly dissipated. I ran barefoot through the brush and snow, feeling nothing but air 'round me blow. The only objective discovering my calling, finding my Maiden of Storms in the gnarled branches. I heard her voice on the howling winds; I felt the hailstones pelting me, a physical reminder of her icy perfection. Icicles like talons broke on my face as I bounded, her elusive touch, as we danced through the night; my last.

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ˖*༄

Now we dance on clouds, whispering secrets into the wind. My only love, my icy grey Storm Maiden. A mortal tragedy transpired the day she departed; I counted the wretched sunny days. Resenting all the disrespectful sunbathing laughers and fine day sayers. I waited years, tucked away, for my Maiden of Storms to return and take me to her snowbound lair. Not a single soul could stop me; no chains could tether or bond me, and I would slip any earthly bindings to wisp away when her call came my way, my force of nature, my Stormy Lady.

K.B. Silver

I got this shot when it had been raining and snowing off and on all day for several days straight. There was a short break, and I looked up at the window and saw a face in the trees. I had to get a picture of it, and once I had the picture, I had to write a poem about it.