𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌

THE STORM HAD STRANDED HIM. Actually, it wasn't really a storm. Well, of course, it was scientifically, but Atticus thought of it as an enraged monster on the loose.

Though the only 'enraged monster on the loose' was him. He had escaped prison for the fourth time, and just when he believed he had finally made it to freedom, a storm swept him away. He would've found it romantic, (if he was drunk, he would've even blushed) perhaps it could've been a story to tell his future grandchildren, but his leg broke. And that, definitely, was not romantic at all.

"That damn fucking storm!" He grunted as he picked himself up. "I swear if I see you again," he put his fist up to the cloudy sky, "you'll be the one who's swept away, you fucking bitch!" He tripped, and sand got in his mouth.

Atticus quickly spit it out and apologized to the storm, "Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he then grumbled, "Good, God, not even nature likes me. Pathetic piece of shit." Thunder rumbled in the sky and Atticus saw lightning flash in front of him. He growled in frustration, "I'm sorry! " Rolling his eyes, he continued his walk.

It was eerily quiet, and Atticus started to get anxious. What if I'm walking upon some mad man's land, bloody hell. His eyes widened as another thought approached his mind: what if the storm didn't kill me because it wanted some psycho to.

His steps quickened as he began to search for a sign of human life. But he soon came to an abrupt stop, what if they kill me?

But he just shrugged the thought off; if he were to get killed, at least it wouldn't be in that damned prison. Anywhere was better than that place. 

Atticus began to pant after five minutes of walking. He really needed to work out, but he was just too damn lazy. The fastest he'd ever run in his life were the times when he was escaping the police and prison. That had to count as a workout, Atticus was sure of it.

He found a big rock a few feet in front of him. It looked strong enough to hold him, and it was big enough. Atticus groaned at the thought of walking more , but he soon reached the big rock and sat his ass down. He sighed contemptibly.

He chuckled, "I must be the bravest man on earth." But the sound of rustling behind him quickly changed his mind.

He slowly turned his body to look behind him. There were large bushes behind him, and Atticus He grabbed a small pebble from the sand and called, "Show yourself, you scum." But the 'scum' only giggled, which caused him to take a step back. He cleared his throat, "Who are you? What do you want?" There was silence for a painful minute. 

"I knew I should've killed myself back when I was emo," Atticus muttered. 

"What's an emo?" The voice spoke. 

"Oh, it's like this phase people have when they're kids- wait!" Atticus hurriedly picked up more pebbles from the sand and faced the mysterious bushes. He made a weird face (which he probably thought looked scary) and exclaimed, "I know you're there! Show yourself, or I'll-" he looked around the sand for a few seconds, hoping to find a bigger weapon. Sighing in defeat, he looked back up and said, "Or I'll kick you to Mars!" 

An awkward silence filled the air again. The bushes sighed and spoke, "Humans are weird."

Atticus' face would've blushed red, "You-you can speak english?" 

"How the bloody-hell would I be speaking to you if I didn't?" 

"Well you seem to be very comfortable in that bush, don't you?" Atticus asked, changing the conversation.

The voice laughed, "Do you think I live in a bush, human?" 

Atticus wanted to slap himself. No, even better: kill himself. 

"No, but I can't exactly see you, so it's not my fault I thought you lived in a bush, you cavewoman," Atticus spat out.

The voice - or the woman- groaned in frustration, "What the hell is a cavewoman."

"Do you not have caves in this land or whatever?" He scoffed. 

"We do, but that doesn't explain what 'cavewoman' means."

"It's like cavemen, but women instead."

"Well what the hell is a caveman!"

Atticus thought for a moment and then replied, "You know, I don't actually know the exact definition-"

"Great," groaned the cavewoman. 

"-But, I can tell you my own definition; it's basically people who act like animals. You know, they eat like ones, they're stinky, they don't wash their asses after they take a shit, and they look like they haven't showered in ages." 

"I don't look like that! And I don't stink," the cavewoman exclaimed, offended. 

"How am I supposed to know you don't look like one? I can't see you because you're hiding yourself," defended Atticus. Note to self, never call a mysterious voice in a bush a cavewoman.

"For all I know," he continued, "you're an old lady with a million wrinkles on her face."

"I'm not old!"

"How do I know you aren't lying?" Atticus rolled his eyes.

"Hold on, I'll prove it." There was some rustling in the bushes, and Atticus thought she planning on eating him. What if she's an ugly human eater?

But she didn't look like an ugly human eater. At all, really.