The Destroyer

Darkness caused faltering. The alignment of the world was out of sync.

“Best not be out in this weather, miss,” an old careworn man said to me as I walked on the pathway between connection and nothingness. “Storms a brewing.”

“Do storms brew?” I asked. Normally I would have kept my head down and eyes before me. Maybe I would have nodded at someone who spoke to me, but today I was feeling vibrant.

“What do you mean, lassie?” the man asked, clearly startled by my response.

“What do storms brew?” I asked. “Do they brew the salty air and the deep smells that are causing my nostrils to sting with longing?”

He shook his head at me and hurried along home, probably to batten down the hatches as one does when a storm is coming.

But not I. I intended to go headlong into the madness. Didn’t they know? Couldn’t they feel it? I could feel the storm. Not like someone with rheumatism feels it in their old knobbly knees. I could feel it in my spirit.

The sky was an ominous gray-green. The wind felled trees as it ripped along the border of darkness. But it wasn’t raining yet.

Suddenly there was a streak of solid black lightning and a burst of thunder so loud I could feel it inside me. I heard a scream in the distance. Why was everyone always so afraid of a little thunder? It gave me life!

I let out a cackle of mirth. It had come!

Swiftly, I glided to where the lightning had struck and stepped on to the solid gray pathway it had left in its wake. I could feel the excitement bubbling inside me. I was afraid of it. I hadn’t been this happy since the stars had disappeared, and I was sure that this sensation was going to rip me apart.

Desperately I felt for the lighting chalk as I climbed through utter darkness toward the stillness. It was going to happen at last!