He was a surge of lightning tearing through the night she owned, rattling her ground like thunder, challenging her strength, bewitching her to hold on tighter.
She was fire possessing the threat to silence his demons, wrecking his walls, shattering...
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SOMEONE Michael schulte 0:00 ───|────── 0:00 ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
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The sky had turned into stardust, all its blues had been conquered by the grey clouds, so puffy as if pent up with secrets of war, and their reign had banished the warmth of the sun far, far away, having commanded its radiance into silence. The wind had turned bitter, singing a haunting melody of approaching rainfall so beautifully, whistling in its welcome, compelling nature all around to drum in accordance with its celebration.
There was no better place to be than in the mountains with the weather as aesthetically pleasing as this.
"Yeah, go slower, Martin. I'm sure there was a group of snails back there that could use our company," Webber said to Martin, the bus driver.
Even though he appreciated the beauty that he and his fellow passengers were traveling in, the last thing he wanted to do was spend this serene weekend taking care of his ballistic students.
What made it worse was that the other two busses had long crossed coach's, they were an hour or so ahead and all that the frustrated man could do was force his misery deeper down his throat. He didn't know if it was his imagination or not but he definitely remembered seeing a sadistic grin on Mr. Lane's lips that he'd worn while his bus was passing Webber's, and sitting next to him was a boy puking his insides out into a paper bag. It was almost like he was teasing coach that even though he'd gotten a bunch of teens with motion sickness, he was still winning a race that had never been settled.
Sitting in the row next to Webber was Nyx, the only one who hadn't heard any of his witty comments.
Not once had the girl taken off her earbuds, letting her music enhance the allure of the essence engulfing her. The tunes of the playlist were lulling her deeper into a state of drowsiness, the fire of her eyes had died down into fading embers, so heavy with the desperate need for a long nap.
She hadn't fallen asleep until dawn today morning as she'd spent the night staying up and waiting for her father to call her back like he'd said he would. But he never did, leaving his daughter in a pit of false hopes. She sat sunken in her seat, losing her senses to the distant call of sleep that only seemed to be creeping closer and closer with every leaden blink of her gaze.
"Seriously, Martin, my grandmother can move faster than this – and she's dead." coach spoke up again, huffing in the process.
Martin, very familiar with the man's sarcasm and just as adjusted to it, shrugged once, "I'm going as fast as I can, coach. Traffic's slow and unless we can skyrocket over it, there's no way to beat it."
Nyx had just allowed her eyes to droop shut, letting out a shaky sigh of exhaustion as she rested her head against the closed window when suddenly, the sound of something rupturing alerted everybody on the bus. For her, it was only a small and far-off noise like a balloon bursting, credits to her loud music.
