I happen to be irrefutably in love with stormy weather, something you might have guessed from reading my post from last week (find it here).
I wrote this a few months ago, while it was raining. It’s raining now, so I see it fit to post it now.
She sat beside her window, and stared out at the gently rippling water in the pool, now gray as graphite, reflecting the dull, mirthless colour of the sky. Usually, it could stay like this for hours, the heavens projecting a melancholic sense of foreboding and wrath withheld, but indecision about whether or not the Celestials wanted to have their revenge on mankind or not. The depression it threatened was so intense it had to give way to pure excitement. Darkness, blackness, shades of gray all became very appealing in a matter of seconds, and sparked within her a desire she knew well.
Thunder. The exhilarating growl of heaven’s very own wild cat —the rainstorm’s mascot—reverberated through the house. The water itself seemed to rise and fall at the sound. Restless now, she was unable to remain at her seat any longer. She stood and stretched out in a lunge, her feet in fourth position and her arms in third, poised as though she were about to do a pirouette.
Lightning. The almost-black sky split for a half-second into two, in the precise shape of Zeus’ master lightning bolt —a beam of sheer brilliance zigzagging across the sky in less than the time it would take you to blink. In synchronization with the sky’s parting, she released the tension from her back leg and did a perfect pirouette en dehors, landing in exactly the same position she began in; calm and still as though she had never moved, like a praying mantis, just as the sky above pretended to be.
Finally, the rain. This time, it was not just a warning. The Higher-Ups had decided to put on the real show. The rain fell in torrents. Moving to the harsh pitter-patter of rain, she danced around the room, leaping, soaring, flying, turning, whirling and blowing all her troubles away. Nothing mattered but being one with nature’s fury. The disastrous weather sucked away her frustration and made it its own, leaving her with nothing but fierce joy and peace once more.
At last, it relented, giving out to something that was slightly more forceful than a drizzle. She took a deep breath, close her eyed and turned around.
When she opened them again, he was standing there, with his arms crossed, and his phone in one palm. How long had he been watching?
“Only God knows how you didn’t end up in the theater or on Broadway,” he said. She smiled. “Oh no, I mean it,” he continued. “That was beautiful…breathtaking…stupendous. I was stunned by your splendour and gracefulness as you danced…without music, I might add. Don’t worry, I know how much you fall in love with nature when it rains.”
He paused. She waited. There was more.
Eventually it came: “In other news,” he added, “I just woke up, and everything you washed this morning is now drenched with dirty, acidic rain water. I just thought I’d inform you so…yeah.” He grinned wickedly. She sighed. Reality had returned.