|  Author | Topic: Storm Damage (Read 67 times) |
cazoo
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Karma: 35 |  | Storm Damage
« Thread Started on Aug 22, 2009, 9:14am » | |
This is my first attempt at writing something longer than a poem, so I thought I'd post it here and see what everyone thinks of it....Be gentle with me 
STORM DAMAGE
Transfixed and practically paralysed with fear, I keep on watching the approaching storm with morbid fascination, taking care to maintain a safe distance and preparing to run. My eyes remain locked on the spectacle before me, never glancing away even for an instant, worried I might get caught in its fury. Despite my close proximity, I have a strange sense of detachment and remain rooted at my vantage point. The storm heading directly towards me with menacing speed could hit any time now. It’s rather hard to comprehend how someone of my young age has the insight and wisdom to predict these occurrences with such accuracy. I don’t even recall now how I learned myself, it’s all I’ve ever known, I suppose. I see the warning clouds gathering clearly, as if an artist were painting them in the sky before me. I feel the momentum building around me now, and I’m swamped with the familiar cloud of foreboding darkness, making me aware that I am exposed and in danger. Instincts kick in and I retreat inwardly. Only one frantic thought looping in my mind ‘The storms don’t always come, this might blow over’. I don’t believe my words at all, but I grasp desperately at the faint hope, regardless.
Suddenly I snap back to the present moment and realise that I’ve spent more than long enough observing this destruction from such close quarters. I need to act fast now, before it’s too late…Rising slowly and deliberately, I avoid making any noise that might reveal my intentions. I’m unlikely to be intercepted, but it’s safer to err on the side of caution, I find. Walking away, I’m almost too scared to breathe and find coordinating my limbs an impossible task. One long, deep breath is enough to steady my nerves, allowing me to move away quickly and silently. Getting away unnoticed is essential to my survival, that much I know. My only thought now is of reaching the others and preventing them from getting caught up in this…I don’t allow myself to dwell on what might happen if I can’t make it to them in time. Some things are too terrifying to contemplate. I shake my head to rid myself of the disturbing images and focus on making my escape. I will stop at nothing to safeguard my younger siblings and fulfil my promise of protecting them from horrors such as the malevolent darkness I see looming now.
I find them just in time, grasping at them desperately, pulling them with me, urging them along until we scramble together into a secret place of our making. A split second later, the thunder erupts and a slate grey cloud of impending doom engulfs us where we hide, blocking out all coherent thought. We can almost taste the acid of rising panic in our mouths as the pounding blood in our ears threatens to deafen us. All we can do is huddle together, giving each other what comfort we can, until the angry exchanges subside and we can re-emerge. I struggle to think of something to say that might ease our collective anxiety, but the words do not come. We listen on in silent fear, the barrage of sound assaulting our senses.
Endlessly the battle rages, getting louder and seeming even closer now, as if we are completely surrounded by it. In truth it is still some distance away, we should be safe for now. Again and again, furious roars and clashes erupt, making us flinch and close our eyes in fright. There we remain, terrified and stormbound, not knowing how long we might be trapped like this. The tension begins to show in our limbs which are screaming with the pain of sitting still for so long. Time loses all meaning and it becomes hard to distinguish whether we’ve been there for minutes or hours. Still no let up in the thunderous eruptions, which continue to ebb and flow over us like a tidal wave pounding our consciousness. We resist the resulting fear with every ounce of our strength, although it seems we are losing the fight badly. My siblings gaze up at me, both with looks of heart-wrenching apprehension etched on their faces. They are seeking my reassurance and yet on this occasion, I am not certain I can bring them the solace they so desperately need. Tears prick my eyes as I regard their watery expressions. I see that their belief in our survival is fading fast and I’m overwhelmed with deep sadness as I contemplate how much longer they can endure these onslaughts.
Usually the storm would have abated by now, and I can’t help but wonder at the reason for the length and ferocity of it this time. What incomprehensible shift has occurred to bring about this escalation? Suddenly I am consumed with burning anger and frustration. The waiting is unbearable and I feel driven to take action, ease our suffering somehow. I have no plan of how to halt the melee that surrounds us, most likely I cannot. Still, I must do something at least. “Enough of this insanity”, I murmur. The others beg me not to leave our sanctuary but I brush them aside and boldly step out to face the fierce storm. I am thinking neither of my safety, nor of the possible consequences of my reckless intervention, but that no longer matters. Too long has been spent in the shadow of these storm clouds and I am desperate to end our suffering. I must at least try, for all our sakes. The time for watching from afar is over. I briefly consider that perishing in the eye of this destructive phenomenon is more favourable than the life I am enduring anyway. This thought gives me the courage I need to rush straight for the centre of this almighty feud and shout defiantly with a strength and passion I never realised I had within:
“I LOVE YOU BOTH AND I BEG YOU WITH ALL MY HEART, STOP ARGUING RIGHT NOW! …We’re scared you’ll hurt each other and we hate these fights…Please… Please…No more fighting…”
My pleas dissolving quickly into sobs which wrack my body and as the adrenaline subsides, I sink slowly to the floor, tears streaming down my pale face, and bury my head in my arms. My siblings reach me then and embrace me as we wait to see what will happen next. A few moments pass and…nothing…the fighting is over. My parents just look at each other with stunned expressions of remorse and shame. The storm has passed and we have survived it with just emotional scars this time.
Calm is miraculously restored…Until the next storm comes.
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johny
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« Reply #1 on Aug 27, 2009, 6:06pm » | |
I really like this Cazoo. Almost from the outset, the storm seems invested with a malevolent life of its own, and this kind of ambiguity as to its exact nature gives the story added tension! I did find this pretty tense and dramatic, climaxing and then winding down really effectively at the end. And I picked up on some superb phrases, eg ...as I regard their watery expressions - I've never come across that phrase, but so effective in the context of the storm, and in conveying kind of washed out expressions of fear. Again, nice force and tension - a good short story! 
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cazoo
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« Reply #2 on Aug 31, 2009, 3:13pm » | |
Thanks for your kind comments, Johny . Glad you liked it. I'm still not 100% sure about it myself, I definitely find poetry a more natural medium for my writing.
This short piece took a disproportionately long amount of time to produce, I would worry how long a novel would take me to write, lol. I do want to branch out beyond poetry though and I guess I have to start somewhere.
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johny
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« Reply #3 on Sept 1, 2009, 12:50pm » | |
You're more than welcome Cazoo. When you say a disproportionate time I wonder how long you mean...I wouldn't expect such a story to be reeled off in an afternoon. If you feel poetry is more natural for you, then probably not worth worrying too much about really mastering a form you don't enjoy so much...but I for one would like to read more of your prose You could try a different area (or trope as intellectual types who talk loudly in restaurants call it).
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cazoo
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Karma: 35 | | Re: Storm Damage
« Reply #4 on Sept 3, 2009, 11:46pm » | |
Now I feel like I was making a fuss about nothing...the majority of the story took about half a day and then there was a series of tweaking sessions as the perfectionist in me took control.
The story came from an initial poetic urge and then took an unusual twist and became a story rather than a poem when I started working on it on my laptop (organic writing, Mr Gilbert might say). I guess the reason I felt that this writing took so much effort was that I was pouring essentially poetic wording into the majority of the lines, making it a rather lengthy free-form poem of sorts. I did have a concern that the result was too heavy and wordy.
I estimate that this piece used about the same mental energy as writing 15 poems in the equivalent of a day, making it seem a rather draining exercise at the time. I did enjoy writing it, I just had some doubts about sustaining that level of energy on a consistent basis. Time to learn to write in an un-poetic style, methinks.
All things are possible, I should know that, lol.
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johny
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Karma: 35 | | Re: Storm Damage
« Reply #5 on Sept 4, 2009, 12:18pm » | |
A prose poem of sorts Cazoo Interesting what you say about the energy equivalent (15 poems? Gosh) - the more you do it though, the easier it will be (sorry that sounds a bit hackneyed) Yes sounds an enticing idea your developing non-poetic style of writing too...well, so long as it doesn't stray into dry reportage mode, poetic colour which is clearly part of your style is a lovely thing to experience in reading. I like your last comment - indeed
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Craig
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« Reply #6 on Sept 4, 2009, 7:18pm » | |
I've read this twice now, and it never fails to stir a feeling within me of foreboding and dread.
This is powerfully done, Cazoo! I really like it, and I think, like Johny, you should write more stories, because I think you'd be really excellent at it. More, please!
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cazoo
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« Reply #8 on Sept 8, 2009, 6:25pm » | |
This story is very moving Cazoo, you really can feel the pressure building all the way through.
You have a wonderful way with words. I hope you do write more stories, you clearly have the ability. A well deserved karma point for you methinks.
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