Stormwalker: A Start

I have a tendency to veer away from prose, because constructing worlds and characters and extended plot times with the appropriate pacing is extremely hard. This is a very short piece that goes towards an idea that's been in my head for a week or so now; I can picture a flash frame from this scene and it was actually the very beginning of the tick-tock on the old brain clock as I counted down to its beginning.

It's rough, immaturely and incompletely envisioned, but that's okay. Baby steps, this is all about creating on a daily basis; I can refine and rethink later. Some days, I think, I shall write the plot and character synopsis, develop the world, etc. as use of my daily writing challenge.




April 30th, 2014 - Stormwalker: A Start

Thunder courses through the sky into the ears of a frantic nest of curiously antlike humans below. I suppose it sounds to them as though the clouds might come crashing down at any moment, courtesy of my foul mood. Not that they know, of course; nobody knows.

Well, nobody knew – until today.

“Sylla, wait!” The voice, still several paces behind me, beckons.

I’m not exactly running from the guy, but I’m not hanging around to throw him a welcome party either. Each cool breath is sharp in my chest and the damp clings to my lips and every stray hair; it’s a small price to pay for my hours of exploration. The planet’s surface is unbelievable, looks strangely fragile from 13,000 feet up. I understand why people say it looks like glass. One storm gone wrong is all it would take for the cracks to appear. Unsettled, my thoughts retreat from the idea, like wishing away the future were actually possible.

Lightning flashes below me, the charged particles in the air reacting to my fear. The ragged edge of my current cloud is approaching quickly, but I’m not worried. I know it will extend like the sixth sense that stops me from walking into walls – not that it helps much most days. I’m clumsy in a crazy way and there’s no denying it, but this cloud is as much a part of me as my own heart or lungs, my ability as much a part of my survival as the food and water I consume.

Only the storm consumes me in return, drawing life from my inheritance as a stormwalker.

©2014 Chloe Bianca