A Writer’s Book of Days Exercise: Storm

The rain pounded on the dirt, soaking everything and forcing anyone with any sense inside.

“Randall, what are you doing?” Shel shouted to be heard over the rain on the metal awning behind him. He’d shouted from underneath it as well, but there had been no response.

This time Randall turned to him and smiled. His long hair was plastered to his skin, and there was electricity in his eyes as wild as the lightning flashing above their heads.

“Come inside!”

Randall shook his head, and then tilted it back to face the rain. His bandanas were slipping out of place, skewed by the slickness and the pressure and looking for all the world — right.

Shel shuddered, from the cold within. It crept up to meet the chill of the rain, consuming. He let it, even his thoughts freezing so he wouldn’t have to work through the cause, not now.

He went inside, leaving Randall with the storm. Where he belonged.



by | Apr 8, 2011