Short Stories Vol. 1

The Balancing Storm

The sweet fragrant smell of wildflowers, carried by the wind, infiltrates her nostrils. In osmotic fashion, the myriad of scent elicits feelings of joy, happiness, belonging, and safety. Beaming rays of warm light dance and embrace her being with a tangible loving presence; a gentle hug from the bright yellow star, reflecting off of the grassy meadow laid before her feet. A hint of moisture clings in the air, dampening her skin, while creating prismatic rainbows across the field of flowers, reflecting the love of light; small droplets making friends with the petals: Poly luminescent, tie-dyed, friendly faced gregarious flowers, in an endless expanse of grass shoots and meadow; embracing the color refracting children of water in their bosom, best friends finally reunited after far too long. With growing concern, she detects a hint of ionization in the atmosphere as she inhales, the telltale sign of an encroaching storm, "Is that ozone?", she asks, using herself as an interlocuter. Receiving silence for an answer, she gazes upon the horizon; phobic anticipation elucidates within. A storm is gathering, a storm with no end in sight; a thunderous, cackling supercell of dark malevolent energy, vibrantly pulsating with life, illustrated with multiple boastful taunting roars: The genesis cry of apocalyptic whirlwinds, crackling with irascible and splenetic power; a cosmic firework display, a conduit for an other-worldly acrimonious dimension. Vortices can be seen breaching the floor of the murus, teasing the ground beneath, a playful pirouette, tempting the Earth to embrace its long-lost love, its darker side.

A cool breeze gently brushes across her face, blowing her glossy shimmering hair back, stealing a bit of the generous warmth that the life-giving cosmos has provided, the storm is the jealous type. A slight twinge of frosty moisture is detected on the surface of her skin, sending a shock, and a chill down her spine; it seems the wind has also made friends with the water; antithetical to the emblazoned solar inferno illuminating the Earth. Ignoring the attrition evoked from the distant boisterous resonant ballyhoo, she reaches her hands out and gently caresses the flowers. The petals soothe and tickle her fingers, a gentle kiss of friendship and longing, these flowers are her friends, and it has been far too long. Anxiously parading, the flowers turn away from their celestial life giver and smile with intrepid joy at the sight of their missing friend, beginning an orchestral dance, with the wind as their maestro, and the sun as their spotlight. She begins to dance and sing along with her long-lost friends; twirling, skipping, and jumping; she frolics through the meadow, feelings of myopic bliss overtake her. She hears a voice call to her in an incomprehensible audiation, ushering forth a convoluted message; an expression of bewilderment breaches the surface. Ignoring the voice, she continues to make merry and reminisce with her friends. The voice grows louder, the shriek of a banshee-child, inducing sensory overload.

Suddenly, without warning, the distant williwaw encapsulates and befuddles her senses, an ineluctable prison of entropy. The once welcoming illustrious, luminescent blue firmament; replaced with an oppressive, phosphorescent crepuscular tenebrosity. Rain smashes down like a thousand tiny fists of petrichor, replenishing the soil, providing a sense of creation in destruction. Ferocious winds howl, lacerate, and tear her friends apart, their screams echo and fade; an epoch of a former existence long forgotten. Possessed with truculent vociferous malignment, she cackles, "HAHAHA!" as she commands the storm. Psychotic tempests dance about the epidermis of the Earth, long lost lovers finally reunited in the fury and marvel of the raging squall. Recognizing its long-lost companion, the storm ignites with vehement fury only few have survived. The tumultuous gale, empowered by the rekindled flame, discharges an expulsive thunderclap, a chasmic bellowing raucous from its rumbling paunch abyss; unleashing a force of cosmological power; forming a maelstrom above her: Twisting shadows, and debris, with coronal ferocity, siphoning off her rage, exponentiating in size; preparing to incise the Earth. She belligerently delights with epicaricacy at the pugnacious pandemonic destruction of her old friends as they are lifted, and scattered throughout the heavens, echoing their brilliant prismatic bioluminescent blossoms; a marvelous awe-inspiring sight to be seen from above the raging malevolence, the balance is preserved, peace above, chaos below.

As the ensconced Machiavellian gyre descends, it splits out into five distinctive tentacles, a hand of destruction, embracing and empowering the commandress below. She adjures, and exhorts the storm, in all of its glorious catastrophic creative proliferation; for only with death can life continue to thrive. Suddenly, a touch of fear embraces her being, she feels the chaotic control fading, and serenity begins to return. With little warning, the hand slams down; perfidy revealed, catapulting her into the atmosphere. Up, and up she goes, shock and fear leave her in a catatonic state, she is paralyzed and devoid of the courage that her ferocity provided; adroit wisdom of control may have been a dream, a bellicose death cry. Clouds and debris streak across her vision, she is encircled by her once friends, the wildflowers. Tears stream down her face as she realizes what she embraced. A desperate sorrow, and a repentant need to be forgiven espouses within. She cries out, "Please, forgive me! I am only human!" The rush of panic and fear suddenly give way to tranquility and serenity, as she breaches the anterior cloud cover; she sees the awe-inspiring peaks of the marshmallow resemblant cumuli whilst being propelled higher and higher, lifted by a force of supernatural power.

Almost weightless, she reaches the peak of her ascension and peers down: A great eye has formed directly below her; a remnant of the cataclysmic maelstrom, with death comes life, and she begins to descend. In an odd sense of peace, she begins to accept her impending ruination, destined to rejoin her friends in a climactic calamity; friends she helped destroy. As she plummets towards Earth, she notices a peculiarity; flowers are blossoming below her! Her friends are alive, their empathic roots grow deep, and they have returned to life! Feelings of joy precipitate feelings of dread as she falls farther and farther, nearing gravity's finality. Seconds before impact, her magnanimous friends, the wildflowers, push forth from the Earth in miraculous unison and embrace their long-lost friend, understanding the cost of such benevolence, for they will be pulverized, but for them the sacrifice is worth the cost. She is bewildered by such an act of forgiveness and compassion, overcome with thankfulness and gratitude, she begins to sob as she gently hits the ground; forgiven, endless unyielding grace. Every tear provides a new seed, a new sprout, a new friend is created; the balance maintained.

©2021 Sean Riedel