"She was a summer storm- wild and unexpected and transient."- putthepromptsonpaper
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She was a summer storm- wild and unexpected and transient. But not soft, not gentle, not sweet.
Where Chris grew up, the storms had a habit of knocking down trees, flooding streets, soaking people straight through their clothes. At nighttime, you could see lighting over the mountains, hear the wind howl through the walls of his foster house.
Sometimes, when he'd hear nothing but snores, when it was so dark you could barely see your own hand when it was in front of your face, he'd go outside in one of those nights and walk out to the porch. Then he would stick a bare arm out and touch the rain. Chris would look out at the chaos around him, so different from the tense quiet in the house, and wonder if one day he'd learn to be the same.
Maybe that was why, out of all the others, he didn't run away after meeting Lisa. Summer storms were wild, but beautiful all the same.
YOU ARE READING
Blarbs
Short StoryJust some random one-shots in my head, possibly some fanfiction too.
