Sunday September 6th, 2009

The exercise:

Today's starter shall be: hurricane.

Partly because it's crazy windy here at the moment. Partly because I was listening to this while writing mine.

Mine:

I lie on my back in the middle of the field, watching the clouds race each other across the sky. The rain hasn't started yet but you can feel it in the air, like a humid breath on the back of your neck.

The tall grass that surrounds me is a partial shield from the wind, the physical sensation at least. It's still as loud as ever though, howling like a beast in captivity.

Except this beast is wild and free, nothing can stop it. The trees are trying, I can hear them straining to remain rooted in place, but they will lose sooner or later. A loud crack to my left tells me another one has been defeated.

The first drop of rain shatters on my outstretched hand and I close my eyes and breathe deep. It won't be long now.

2 Comments:

Greg said...

Hah, I'm not sure I'd go and lie outside in a hurricane! I did like your piece though, it really captures the idea of the calm before the storm.

I've not (yet) been caught in a hurricane, though when I was flying out of Antigua last year we'd been in the air about ten minutes before the Pilot mentioned the hurricane coming our way.... Luckily we flew around it.

Hurricane

I swear I don't know how, but I've managed to upset Aeolus. Even as I'm running away from his palace, clutching his harp, I can hear the roar of the winds. Then they're upon me.
First is Boreas, a chill touch, a ghostly hand sliding along my cheek, turning my head, but there's no-one there. Then Zephyrus, as playful as ever, pulling at my hair and biting at my ankles.
But since when did the wind draw blood?
I hurry on, little droplets of red thrown into the air and danced around until the icy chill of Boreas freezes them into tiny rubies of remembered pain. Now Eurus is rising up and embracing me, warm, water-bearing air buffeting me and making it hard to stay my course. In my hands, the harp hums, its bittersweet tones loosing the chains that bind the winds to Aeolus's palace.
And now Notus descends, freed and unleashed, and a hurricane swirls around me, growing stronger with every turn. An unearthly howl screeches within it, and though I struggle to maintain my centre, to stand firm within the eye of the storm, Notus has no such intentions for me and I am swept aloft, tossed like a rag-doll high into the air, still clutching my ill-won prize.

Marc said...

Yikes. That sounds like something I'd like to know about before we took off, haha.

Great piece, love the descriptions. This line really stood out for me:

"I hurry on, little droplets of red thrown into the air and danced around until the icy chill of Boreas freezes them into tiny rubies of remembered pain."