Thunderheads

The concrete was cold against their backs. Sweat acted as a siphon, pulling heat straight from their bodies. Neither teen seemed bothered, it provided a temporary relief from the afternoon sun. Here at the end of the breakwater there was no hiding from those scorching rays. The shadow of the lighthouse looming over them vanished within itself this time of day, leaving the spray and breeze the only relief, and there had been no breeze today. Neither the aroma of saltwater nor the constant lapping of the waves along the rocks broke up the staleness of the moment; the only other noise was the occasional screech of the gulls calling back and forth. But that was due to change; he knew it was. He expected it would happen soon. The horizon had grown dark over the past hour. 

She let out a sigh and pulled herself to her feet. Her movements slow and deliberate, she stretched her stiff muscles. He knew she hated sitting for so long, but recognized the measured manner in which she moved. She was looking for signs. He watched her watching the sea. If she saw anything significant, her expression didn’t reveal it. She looked down at him and smiled.

 Settling back into her seat against the wall of the lighthouse she noticed a hint of shadow beginning to creep across them. The searing light above slowly disappeared behind the silhouette of the lighthouse’s upper balcony. She took his wrist and pulled it towards her, making note of the time. Her other hand explored the bottom of the bag they had brought. A pair of gulls flew overhead, adding their voices to the cacophony on the balcony above them. Her fingers stopped rummaging in the bag; they had found what they were searching for. She withdrew a notebook; worn blue leather, a pencil tucked into the gap in the spine. Leafing through the pages until she found the first blank, she wrote silently.
By the time she pulled herself from the freshly scrawled pages, an oppressive lack of color had crept across the landscape. Slipping her pencil back into the spine, she slid the notebook into the bag. The black clouds were no longer content resting on the horizon. They had crawled so close that she thought she might reach up and wring the moisture from them; the sun now hid, trying to avoid the coming storm. 

The air had changed, no longer stagnant, a briny gust made her hair dance behind her. Despite its ominous appearance, this new sky had invited movement and change. It brought life to the sea. The building wind whipped across the waves, their tips turning white with the chill. It brought relief from the heat, but stung the teens with cool air and cooler water. It was warning them; they weren’t meant to be there. Mother nature was offering them a chance to flee. 

The gusts became stronger, more frequent, and the water transformed. Once a slow rolling quiet blanket of reflected light, the sea became troubled. Waves rose and fell, capped with frothing white edges. They crashed against the rocks in a constant roar, dull at first but steadily intensifying. Each one sending a spray of cold water up and across the shoreline, the breakwater, the lighthouse itself.
Flashing purple, an explosion tore the sky in half. The storm screamed it was close, and it wanted them to know it was coming.

She took his hand, entwining their fingers, and he squeezed hers. His breathing had become shallow; he was always nervous right before the show began. She rested her head on his shoulder and felt him relax.
Despite being no later than midafternoon, it was dark enough now that they could make out the signal light rotating high above them against the clouds. She watched the light appear and disappear across the gray while his gaze temporarily fixed on the outline of a lone bird attempting to make it back to land, darting this way and that as it fought the shifting air currents. The gloom gave way momentarily as a forked string of electricity made its way across the skyline, turning the world around it purple again. 

From the corner of his eye he saw the smile she wore and squeezed her hand again. She was always at peace when mother nature stretched her legs. He felt her squeeze back, then felt her reach back into her bag. This time she left the notebook, but withdrew a camera. Uncovering the lens and slipping the strap over her head, she looked tilted her face towards him. “You were right,” her voice betrayed her anticipation, “she’s gonna be a monster.”

Author's Note

Newest revision of a short story I wrote in 2017.

Reviews

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Love this you are extremely talented keep writing

[Jenaynayness]

I really really enjoyed this. The imagery is fantastic, and I loved the sensory descriptions thrown in here and there. Beautiful, and wonderful.

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

So suspenseful and well-written. Gripped my imagination from beginning to end as you skillfully incrementally increased the mystery through vivid imagery and character reaction. Expected much worse but Fooled me at the end- spoiler alert! So, will there be more? Hope so!