The Storm

I was always afraid of thunderstorms...

Footprints in the sand led to a little beach shack that acted as our makeshift home. There wasn’t much there. A tiny bedroom with a mound of sheets serving as our bed and some dusty cabinets where we put whatever food we had, a miniscule bathroom that you could barely fit into. The water was always cold and the windows were stained with years of grime. The floorboards creaked, each and everyone one of them, when met with the slightest pressure. There wasn’t any electricity so we had to rely on sunlight and candles to guide us through the shack’s three rooms. It was far from the romantic getaway most people dreamed about, but we didn’t care.

               

“Siempre que tengamos uno al otro,” you used to say. “As long as we have each other.”

               

It was raining one night, a terrible storm that you heard forecasted on the radio on your ride into town. You got home almost as soon as you heard. You knew I hated storms. You came in the door just as the downpour started and you came into the bedroom with your hands full of candles. They were all from our stash in one of the cupboards, ones you’d come home with one day and when I asked why you replied “Por si acaso.” “Just in case.”

               

You set the candles around the room and when the thunder started to rumble overhead you reached into your pocket and pulled out a lighter. A flash of lighting sliced the sky in two when you bent down near the first candle. I jumped, but you didn’t even seem to notice the light that came and left so quickly. I loved that about you. Nature’s sudden tantrums, which sent me shivering with fear, never scared you.

               

You finished lighting the candles and came to sit beside me. You folded me into your arms and leaned back, supporting me while the wall supported you. Every time a clap of thunder sounded overhead you would hold me tighter, as if you could keep me from falling apart.

               

We sat in silence watching the flames of the candles form shadows on the walls. The shadows seemed to have lives of their own, walking and dancing a haphazard ballet across the floor. Each time the lightning flashed they seemed to run, change their direction, and when the lightning was gone each shadow carried on as usual. The rain kept time for them. I could almost hear it counting. One two three, one two three, one two three…

               

You slipped your hand under my shirt, splayed it like a starfish on my belly. You skin was warm. You rested your lips on my neck- not quite a kiss, but not quite not one either. Your hot breath graced my skin in perfect time. In…Out…In…Out.

               

You kissed me then, gently on my neck and you kept kissing me, making a trail upwards. You nipped at the bottom of my ear and then stopped.

               

“Te amo,” you whispered. Your words floated into my ear like a summer breeze. “I love you.”

               

I turned my head. You were so close that my nose touched yours. I kissed you, letting my tongue slip into your mouth. It was the only way I could think to tell you how I felt. You were always so gifted with words, but I always seemed to fall short.

               

I felt you start to move your hand under my shirt. You stroked my abdomen, traced each of my ribs, dragged your fingers across the wire of my bra. Your touch was so gentle and sincere. It made me feel like I could dissolve on the spot.

               

Thunder rolled across the sky overhead and I shuddered, pulling away from you as if you had been the one to cause it. My hands were shaking when you took them and brought me towards you again. As if nature was working against us, another clap of thunder made me rip my hands from yours. I grabbed the blankets in my fists, clutching them so fiercely my knuckles turned white.

               

The first sign that something was horribly wrong was that every time the thunder shook the sky our little shack shook violently with it. The floorboards were creaking, the screen door at the front of the house was swinging open and closes, its hinges squeaking like mad. The candles on the floor were shaking. I shut my eyes against the chaos, but I found I was too late to stop that terrible sense of dread from rooting itself in my stomach.

               

Lightning strikes seemed to come down one after another, hardly waiting for the clashes of thunder to cue them. They were white spears being thrown from angry gray clouds. I brought my body low to floor, curling up into a tight ball. You bent over me, stroking my hair, whispering to me, telling me everything was going to be ok. I shook my head. How could I believe you when I felt the world crumbling around me?

               

You embraced me and I flung my arms you, holding onto you for dear life. Thunder roared and the house rocked. I whimpered and buried my face against your shoulder. I heard a soft laugh escape your lips as you cradled me.

               

“No preocupe,” you said. “Está bien.” “Don’t worry. It’s ok.”

               

A flash of lightning distorted your features and I dug my nails into your back, willing the image out of my head. That was another reason storms frightened me. Their effects can make people you love look horrifying. You kissed me at the exact moment the next clap of thunder came, catching my scream in your mouth.

               

“Te amo,” you said as soon as we broke apart. You were quiet for a minute, your dark eyes slightly questioning. “¿Me amas?” you asked. “Do you love me?”

               

“I…I…” I was interrupted by a loud rush of wind that tore shingles from our roof, slowly forming a hole that let rain fall over you. Your hair was wet in a matter of seconds, matting together. You shook you head and some of the droplets scattered over me.

               

If it was possible, the rain fell harder. Now that the roof was started to open wider and wider we could feel it. It extinguished all of our candles and drenched us in a few short minutes. The thunder and lightning engaged in a terrifying tango in the sky. I didn’t realize how petrified I was until you began kissing the tears off my cheeks. When had I started crying?

               

I counted the lightning bolts the way I had counted the beats of the rain earlier.

               

One. The clouds seemed to paint the sky with horrifying pictures. I could see mythological beasts with angry eyes hidden in them.

               

Two. I could hear the waves lapping at the shore, as if they wanted safety in the sand.

               

Three. The thunder that followed sounded like a scream. Or had that sound escaped the confines of my throat?

               

Four. I heard you yell.  You weren’t near me anymore.

               

Five. I smelled burning. I forced myself to me knees and looked down at the wooden floor below me. It was charred.

               

Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if the storm was satisfied with the damage it had done and was retreating. I called your name, but you didn’t answer. I called again and I heard a moan in reply. I scrambled to my feet and hurried across the room. I fell hard on my knees when I reached you. I bent over you, framing your face in my hands.

               

When I was younger my mother told me the chances of getting struck by lightning. In any given year, the odds of being hit by lightning are about 70,000 to one. The odds of dying by a lightning strike are 82,000 to one. About 70 people are killed by lightning each year.

               

“Tenga la mano,” you croaked. “Take my hand.” God, it killed me to hear how much you struggled to speak. I gripped your hand. There was blood on it. In fact, there was blood all over you. You lying in a pool of it.

               

Tears streaked down my cheeks as I took in the sight of you. Your clothes were singed, your arms had burns on them, I could see purple bruises forming on your skin. There was a cut on your forehead. Your fingers twitched in the palm of my hand. I could feel your heard beating hard through your skin.

               

You sighed deeply and I felt your heartbeat slow. Your eyes started to slip shut.

               

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No…D-Don’t go.”

               

You opened your eyes as wide as you could manage. You did your best to focus on me and I felt your hand tighten around mine, reassuring.

               

“Yo nunca le dejaría solo,” you whispered. “I would never leave you alone.” You then let your eyes drift shut. I didn’t let go of your hand, hoping that somehow I could transfer all of my feeling to you, tell you what I never was able to force out of my mouth.

 

Te quiero. Te quiero más que nada.

Author's Note

I don't know exactly what I was going for here. This is kind of a rough draft, in the next few days I'm going to be going through it and fixing it up.

Also, the Spanish at the end isn't translated because I didn't want to take away from the beauty of the statement. For anyone who doesn't speak Spanish/doesn't speak that level of Spanish, it means "I love you. I love you more than anything." I know quiero is "I want", but here it translates a little differently. :3

Comments and crit greatly appreciated. :3

Reviews

[Marlena]

I like this but you definitely need to do some damage control, you have a lot of grammar mistakes, a few typos. It's nothing major but it kind of takes from the story a bit. Also, the Spanish was a nice touch, but how come when he asks her if she loves him she says "I"? Sorry XD I liked this though, you just need to fix it a little. ^^