The Storm Within

Inspired my a favorite quote of mine. Many will be familiar with it. I just wrote a story surrounding it in my own creative way.

She stands on the apex of a grassy knoll. The wind whipping and twisting the long strands of her hair. Her eyes are fixed on the sky above; where rumbling, charcoal-gray clouds rolled towards her. As they approached they covered the still blue sky, blocking the light of day. She could see within the clouds the lightning that flashed in their dark depths, and feel the roar of thunder as it shook the very earth beneath her feet. A storm rose its' beastly head before her, and snarled deep and guttural as the snarl of a wolf. There she stood defiant, her silhouette a stark outline against the blackening sky.

Far below and deep within the darkened forest, two wolves stirred from their slumber. One was white as pure, untouched snow. The other was black as the shadows that nveloped it. The two wolves emerged and were drawn together by the age old forces of balance that put them against one another. The two wolves challenge each other, and so a bloody battle ensued. While the first storm winds blast through the tree tops.

Rain pours down from the sky in heavy sheets, instantly drenching all it touches. The grounds flood, erode, and wash away in tumultuous currents. Where they are swept down the valley towards the Great Water. Thunder cracks and not a single being for miles could not have heard it. Lightning slashes through the sky in brilliant and violent streaks. It served as the only lighting in the seemingly all consuming darkness of the storm.

It was an omen that the sha-woman of the tiny forest village foresaw. And the girl with the windswept hair was the one who knew the cause, the origin. Many days and many nights ago the girl and her closest friend had a bitter, and brutal fight. The two of them we like yin and yang. Complete opposites. Yet they had been the best of friends. Their altercation resulted in not only a division between just the two of them, but the whole village as well. The two friends refused to apologize to one another, and the void between them, their differences, grew each and every day. The girl wished to make amends with her friend, but the two continued to clash, and their pride would not allow them to admit to their faults. Therefore, the tension permeated through the whole village. It snapped and cracked through the air, causing everyone to be on edge. Each day it worsened, climbing to a peak where it would finally break. Thus the storm was bred: roaring it was brought forth stealing the light from the sun, and drowning, burning, shaking, the life of the earth.

Deep in the belly of the valley, the two wolves began their savage battle. The rain washed their blood away in vibrant red streams. The fire lit eyes of the black wolf screamed ignorance, arrogance, and rage. The wolfs foamed lips pulled back in a malicious snarl, blood dripping off of its muzzle, and the fire in its eyes danced. The watery blue eyes of the white wolf blazed with defiance, regret, and understanding. Its white fur matted with mud and blood; it matched the black wolfs ferocity with an underlying calm. Then they lunged.

The torrential rains wreaked destruction all across the land, leaving no living or non-living thing unscathed. The Great Water flooded, the violent gusts ripped branches off of trees, lightning struck the earth with great crashes, and the thunder roared: echoing its intense fury.

The two friends, yin and yang, developed harsh and bitter feelings towards each other. These feelings washed away the purpose of their singer: leaving only just hate. As time dragged on, the differences in their ideals left them entirely at odds. They then truly lost whatever had held them together in the first place. There was no going back. The storm raged for three days and two nights. It was on the night of the third day that a fated encounter between the two old friends occurred.

Atop the mud slick ended grassy knoll, she faced her friend. The both of them drenched from head to toe, and rainwater streaming down their faces. Lightning split the sky and the thunder grumbled low and menacing. The air between them seemed to spark, as though on the verge of an explosion. Words were not spoken, but their eyes told more than what could have ever been said. Hatred, disgust, and their biased views clouded their vision of each other. It became difficult to believe that the two had once been so close they could finish the others thought. One small, petty fight, and words that should have never been uttered, led to this horrid and drastic outcome. The lightning flashed once again; illuminating the cloud covered sky for the briefest moment before going dark. They lunged.

The two wolves staggered apart. Both were terribly wounded, but their wit and ideals, and hate for each other kept them going. There were pools of red that ran in rivers down the ravished ground. Almost making it appear as though the drenched and beaten earth had begun to bleed. The wolves circled; snarling and snapping, ears flat against their head, and their eyes blazing orbs of fire and water in the darkness. Both were just as injured as the other, yet bother were still just as willing to fight as the other. This is how it remains, forever, through time itself. A tie between the two wolves in the battle of desperation to maintain the balance of the world. One constantly trying to overthrow the other.

The old friends screamed harsh words, and threw punches until they collapsed to the ground: locked in a wrestling match of one desperately trying to overpower the other. On and on it went. Both were exhausted, bleeding, bruising, but too stubborn to give up. They were yin and yang. The differences between them had grown into a canyon that could not be breached. Their ideals separated them forever. Peace was nonexistent in the raging storm. The thunder shook the earth beneath them, and lightning set the top of the forest, in the valley below, ablaze with curling red flames.

The old sha-woman was filled with deep sorry as she watched the bitter struggles of wolf against wolf, friend against friend, from within her oracle fire. The wind howled outside her tent, a wailing that called for tragedy. She lowered her head in grief, her frail wrinkled hands trembling slightly, as she waited for the timeless storm to end.

One day a little girl went to visit the elder sha-woman. The sun shone brightly, and the grass was vibrant and green, just as the trees on the leaves. The earth had restored itself: a second succession that flourished more so than the first. Many years had passed before the earth was able to fully heal itself from the chaos that had been wrought upon it. The little girl begged the elder sha-woman to go outside and tell her a story. With a sigh the elder relented and took the little girls hand, and invited her to sit atop a grassy knoll that over looked a great valley. A warm, gentle breeze swept their hair back, and the sha-woman took a moment to close her eyes and relish in the warmth, and light of the life giving sun. When she opened them she gazed out at the azure blue sky, dotted with lazy white clouds. So, she began the tale. It was an ancient tale that she told to all the young ones. A tale of two wolves and of a storm that lies within the human heart.
The old sha-woman told the little girl a story about two friends who were as opposite as yin and yang, the sun and the moon. One was a wolf with a coat as white as freshly fallen snow. The other was a wolf with a pelt as dark as a moonless night. She told the little one of the war between the two, "This is a fight that goes on within us all, and it rages every day and every night. Especially within those that have stron ideals, and strong natures." The little girls' eyebrows furrowed in thought before she looked up at the elder with crystal clear eyes and asked, "Why?" The sha-woman appeared as old and wise as time itself in that instant. She let out a sigh, looking down at her, she replied, "Because inside of everyone are two different ideals. Inside of everyone is a struggle of character: becoming good or evil." She let that sink in a little bit, but confusion scrunched the girls' face, "So then what are the friends, the wolves? Why are they so important?" The old woman gave her a wistful smile, "The white wolf represents the goodness of man. She is kindness, peace, forgiveness, regret, guilt, truth, and righteous anger. The black wolf represents the darkness in man. He is rage, jealousy, greed, arrogance, pride, betrayal, hatred, and ego. The two friends waged a battle such as that within themselves, and therefore their differences in choices, and views. Exams too great. When they had that fight it separated thei ideals forever. They became truly like yin and yang." She paused for a brief moment and then pointed to the little girls' chest, right where her heart was and said, "This very fight goes on within you right now." The child's eyes went round like the watery eyes of a newborn fawn. In a soft, painfully innocent voice, she asked: "Which wolf will win?" The elder sha-woman stood and walked to the apex of the grassy knoll. The breeze sweeping her hair back so that it twisted and twirled the long stands in a frenzy. In the distance a lone wolf howled. The little girl jumped at the sound, her eyes wide. The sha-woman turned, a sad smile curling her lips, and her eyes wrinkled and solemn gazed back at the little girl,

"The one that you feed."

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think. Critiques are always helpful, as well as positive feedback! Thanks!

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

A great idea - the internal battle between good and evil given mythical form. Perhaps a little condensing is possible which could add to the piece. I like the final conclusion -very true! Well done.