Random Short Stories

~~hailstorm~~

*purely fictional*

"Tyler, you're an idiot." I say as Tyler walks onto the porch.
"It's just a thunderstorm," he replies, "there's no hail coming." I look to the sky. It does look like a normal storm, but with the many hailstorms we've been having for the last month, you never know.

The rain is coming down in sheets as Tyler steps out further. I hear loud rolls of thunder and a jagged line of lightning flashes in the sky. The clouds are a deep grey and the horizon is a foggy black. The sun is hidden behind layers of clouds, unable to shine. Running quickly into the rain, Tyler stretches his arms out and his shirt sticks to his sides. His tilts his head up and rain washes over him, soaking his hair and clothes. He runs further until I almost can't see him with the heavy fog. I sigh, debating whether or not to run into the rain after him. My conscience says no, but everything else says yes.

But as I start to tread through the downpour, a few hailstones fall. Now I need to get Tyler. The hail here before has started off pea size, but it's been getting up to softball size. I begin to jog through the heavy rain, calling for him. The hail continues to increase in quantity, and I know I need to find him quickly.

The clouds gradually darken to a rich black and the raindrops get larger. They bite at my exposed skin. Barely seeing through the fog and darkness, I continue through the rain, my hair and clothes sticking to me. I push a few wet strands of hair from my face and continue on. He couldn't have gone far. The hail continues and the rain slows. I notice that the earlier pea sized hail has increased to nickel size.

Suddenly I hear a strain of a singing voice from ahead. I run forward, and nearly run into Tyler. The hail gets larger, some nearly reaching quarter sized.
"Tyler, we need to get out of this storm." I say desperately, shielding my face from the vicious blow of the hailstones. He laughs.
"Josh, calm down. It's just a little hail." He tilts his head up again and closes his eyes. I stare at him. The hail is at least half dollar sized, and the only thing shielding my face and head are my arms. I take Tyler's arm and pull him back to the rental house. He protests.
"I'll only be out here for a bit more, okay?" He says, trying to get me to let go. I tighten my grip, the wind and cold biting ferociously at my skin. The hailstones beat unapologetically at my arms, likely leaving bruises. I look at the sky and see that the clouds are only getting thicker, the sun completely disguised to the earth.

Tyler finally gets me to release his arm when we're on our lawn. I continue to walk towards the house, arms and head aching from the hail. Tyler stands out in the lawn, looking to the sky. He's turned away from me.
"Tyler, c'mon. The hail's getting worse." It was true. The hail was palm sized at the least. Tyler stands under a tree, but hail is still trickling through the broken branches.

I call to Tyler again, and he turns around and faces me. Suddenly a baseball sized hailstone falls from the sky, striking Tyler on the temple. He lets out a cry and collapses, body crumpling. I run to him, completely numb. The hail pelting down on me feels like nothing as I drag Tyler to the porch. A trail of dark blood runs from his temple to his chin, beginning to drip down his neck. Shaking, I press the edge of my shirt to his temple. He appears unconscious, though still breathing. But for how long?

Keeping my shirt to his head, I push open the door. I awkwardly carry him to the couch, laying him carefully down. His breathing is slowing. He's losing a lot of blood. It runs down his neck and it doesn't seem to be stopping. I go through what I learned in school. Could you die from getting hit in the temple? Yes, I think so. Dang.

Tyler seems to be okay, though. Yes, he's losing blood rapidly, but...yeah, maybe he's not okay.

~

He didn't wake up that night. I couldn't drive in the hail, so I had to treat him the best I could. The phone lines were out as well, so I couldn't call 911.

The house was silent without his singing, and my cries couldn't fill the space.

"Sometimes, quiet is violent."