It was subtle. The thunder echoing in the distance. The clouds gathering at a snail’s pace, their color changing as they merged. The wind rustled the tall trees and danced with their leaves. Nature was singing its normal tune, at its normal time. The heat grew over the course of the day. The humidity remained thick. Often, a walk outside was a daunting task, like pulling back heavy, velvet curtains, in an abandoned theater, without assistance from pulleys and ropes. The air stuck to your skin like shrink wrap. The increasing speed of the wind was a relief. The thunder made its presence by growing in anger; adding lightening to show its seriousness. The clouds changed hues – a light grey to a deep black. The rain was impending. Natures relief. As a human swallows all its pain from the day. Its anger growing and growing until its only release is a fountain of tears. It was the heat. It drove them mad. A day spent outside, with a back to the smelting sun. It melted the skin, the humidity clogged the pores, until breathing became a chore. Water wouldn’t help. It only slowed the process of melting into the earth. The insanity of it all boiled the blood. Humanity felt the wrath of the day. The thought of the storm was the only solace, the only release. The lightening flickered and crashed. The thunder screamed. The wind howled. The trees bent, no longer rustling. The leaves were no longer dancing. They struggled to survive. The heat lost its effect. It was slowly losing the war. It deminished behind the clouds, behind the darkness. The humidity slithered away, awaiting its return. No longer was the storm a subtle sign of relief. It was an answer to a forgotten prayer.
Lilian Vale 1 Minute
Published by Lilian Vale
I'm a dreamer. The blog is titled as such because of my mother who lets me know I always have something to say, even when I don't. View all posts by Lilian Vale