“The storm came quicker than expected and Eliza didn’t know what to do in that moment when the lightning started flashing in the sky at rapid intervals. She was frozen to the spot with terror.”

No. That won’t work. Charlie hit the backspace key until all the words were cleared from the screen. 

“The storm came quicker than expected, knocking out all the electricity in the small town of Bankford, Ohio. The streets were completely shrouded in darkness.”

He didn’t like how that sounded either and held down the backspace key. He scratched at his five day scruff thinking he should have shaved that morning. Not when he was on a deadline though. His sophomore novel was due by the end of the month and it was already April 15th. (Did he remember to do his taxes? He sure hoped so.) His debut was such a bestseller that there was an advanced bidding war for this new one, but he had no idea what to write or where he wanted it to go. All he knew was that it was going to be a thriller about a storm. But what kind of storm?

“The storm came quicker than expected. The rain was so heavy that it was impossible for anyone to see past a foot in front of them. It pounded against the umbrellas of those fortunate enough to have them handy.” 

Still not bestseller material. Delete. It was already pretty late in the day and he could smell dinner cooking downstairs. The scent of freshly sauteed vegetables reached him first. No time to go downstairs for dinner when there was a novel that had no words yet. 

“Daaaaaaad!!! The wifi isn’t working again.” His sixteen-year-old daughter Kath yelled through his office door. He quickly opened it up. 

“Mom turned off the wifi until you do your chores and homework. You should know the drill by now.”

“But I really need to answer my Instagram messages. They’re piling up and my followers need me.” Kath’s voice bordered on whining while she gave him her usual sad puppy dog eyes and pout.

“Take it up with Mom. I’m working here.”

“Are you coming down to dinner?” 

“Tell Mom to keep it warm for me and I’ll grab something when I can.”

“Mom is not going to like this, Dad. You haven’t come down for dinner in weeks!”

“I know. Sorry. Once this deadline is met, I’ll be free for dinner anytime Mom wants me to be. Now go do your chores so you can get wifi back.” 

Kath stomped back downstairs while Charlie shut the office door and resumed working on his novel. It wasn’t long before he was interrupted again, this time by the phone.

“Ma, I can’t talk right now. Is it urgent or can it wait?”

“Sweetie, I just wanted to see how your novel was coming along. I told all the women in my book club about how my bestselling son will have a new novel out this fall and they can’t wait! Want to speak at our meeting?”

“Ma, that would necessitate me actually getting this novel done and I’m nowhere near started. I even used a prompt from one of those books you got me for creative writing class back in high school and it’s not helping.” 

“Maybe you should take a break and clear your head. Get some exercise. Just a walk around the block is enough to give you some new ideas.”

“Thanks Ma. I’ll think about it. Gotta go now. Have fun at your next book club meeting!”

“Okay sweetie. Love you.”

Charlie disconnected the call and started thinking again.

“The storm came quicker than expected. No one had ever experienced one of this magnitude before, even with living so close to the Atlantic Ocean, where most hurricanes tended to hit. Hurricane Zelda was literally a force of nature and she was coming in heavy, picking up objects and throwing them in different directions. Since no one expected it, there was no time to board up windows and you could hear glass shattering up and down the row of beach cottages.”

Hmmm. It’s a start, Charlie thought. Now to write over three-hundred pages from this one idea. He needed characters, the name of the location, what would happen in the aftermath of the storm. There was a lot riding on this novel and he kept debating whether he really liked what he had written this time. What kind of objects was the hurricane picking up? Where is the thriller element in all of this? Charlie just wanted to bang his head against the desk until something more came to him. He decided to take his mother’s advice and go on a walk outside. Julie would probably be furious that he was missing dinner to go on a walk when he usually skipped it to actually work on his book. Brainstorming was considered work though. At least he thought so. Just to be on the safe side, he’d go out the door that was furthest away from the kitchen. It was only a short walk and maybe it would help him work up an appetite too. 

The evening air was brisk for April in Atlanta. Usually it was a lot warmer by now. And while it was still daylight, it looked a bit cloudy. He didn’t have a raincoat or umbrella, but it was just a walk around the block. Ten minutes at best to clear his head and get him unblocked. Charlie walked at a leisurely pace, taking in the pink buds on the trees and the green grass that was growing back on everyone’s lawns. Even though he didn’t see anything on his weather app, he could smell rain in the air. It just felt a bit heavier than it had when he first left the house and the clouds were moving closer together, covering up the sun. Then he heard a clap of thunder and the sky turned pitch black.

Here's my story. Hope you all enjoy! 

The Storm 

The first drops of rain began to fall around midday. That was when I knew that something was wrong. Rain beats heavily on the windows now. A bolt of lightning strikes, casting an eerie glow over everything for all of a second. I don't have to count the time that passes between it and the clap of thunder to know how close it is. 

"What are we going to do, Teulten?" I ask, shifting my chair a tad closer to the fire. 

Worry creases Teulten's face as he gazes out the window, but he doesn't reply. 

"We were meant to be leaving tonight." 

If someone finds out it's us... What happened to Neule and Duev flashes through my mind. It didn't matter that she had surrendered the sceptre of Eult. They'd still killed her and her Guardian. Who's to say they wouldn't do the same to us? I don't want to die for my parents' crimes. And I don't want anyone else to either. We need to go...

"We can't, can we?" Teulten says, "We'll have to stay here until the storm blows over."

"But that could last for days!" 

He nods.

"Unfortunately, yes, yes it could. In the bright side, very few others will be travelling in this weather. It is unlikely that anyone will find us." 

As if on cue, a knock sounds at the door. I raise an eyebrow. 

"I shouldn't have said that, should I?" he mutters. 

"No. No you should not." 

"There's a girl seeking shelter. Says her name is Luneu. She's half frozen and alone. She could be an assassin, but if we don't help her..." 

"Just bring her in," I say, "If she is an assassin, I'll deal with it." 

It's his turn to raise an eyebrow now. 

"By that you mean get yourself killed." 

"I never said that," I say, but we both know exactly what I meant.

I'd ask her to kill me, and leave him. Remind her I'm the only target. 

"I could just send her away," Teulten says, but I can't let him do that. 

"No." 

No one else can die for their crimes. Sending her on her way in this storm would be murder. I am not a murderer. I am not my parents. 

The girl is pale and shivering, her blonde hair hanging drenched around her face, water dripping off the ends. I can hear her teeth chattering even from across the room. I stand up from my seat by the fire, feeling suddenly guilty for the warmth I've been enjoying. 

"Please, take a seat." 

She squints at me for a few seconds before her eyes widen with realisation. 

"Duelen Deadcrown?" 

Why do earned family names have to carry?

"Unfortunately, yes, that's me. But come, sit down before you freeze."

The girl instead reaches under her cloak, pulling out a knife. Her hands shake so much it falls to the ground with a thud. She's too cold. 

"I'm not my parents," I tell her gently, "You are safe here." 

She eyes me warily for a few moments before stumbling across the room into the chair. The sigh of relief she breathes as the warmth floods through her is audible.

"What were you doing out in this weather?" I ask, handing her a blanket. 

She reluctantly takes it, wrapping it tightly around herself. 

"The storm came quicker than expected," she manages to mumble. 

Her gaze strays to the knife on the floor. 

"Are you going to kill me like you killed them?" she asks.

"As I said, I'm not my parents," I tell her, "I won't hurt you." 

She stares at me for a moment. Then slowly, she nods. And as the rain beats on the window, she falls asleep. She trusts me enough to fall asleep. And I know whatever tomorrow brings, someone knows I am not them. Maybe that's enough. 

I'm Frank Pepitone, with the Superhero Accountability Department or SAD. Because nobody that works for us is happy.

Next to me on the roof stood Joy, in defiance of the Department's name, wearing a hot pink t-shirt. I still think the Hero-levels should be forced to wear uniforms like the rest of us, but whatever.

Dark clouds and thunder rumbled overhead. The wind whipped the hem of my trench coat into a frenzy, and I was glad I had it tied shut. The storm came quicker than expected. But I guess that's what happens when there's a supervillain behind it. Or in this case, a fake supervillain.

The dark clouds funneled to touch down on the roof in front of us.

I lifted an arm to shield my eyes from the stinging rain and flying gravel.

The tornado vanished in wisps, leaving Courtney standing there. Her eyes flicked over Joy. "I thought I told you to come alone." She sauntered toward us, the wind tearing at her mini skirt.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Why do Supers always take the costume liberties to wear practically nothing?

"He is alone," Joy said, before I had a chance to say anything. "I just came to even the odds, in case things went south. You know."

I interrupted Joy's smug smirk with a dismissive wave. "Are you going to give me the information, or not?"

"Of course, darling." She reached into her too-low neckline and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, holding it out to me in two fingers.

I watched it flap in the wind for a second. I wished I could have Joy take it, but I knew Courtney wouldn't go for that. That's the problem with double agents. Eventually they stop trusting people, and start hiding sensitive information in their unmentionables.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Afraid you'll get cooties?"

I snatched the paper out of her hand and stuffed it into my pocket. I nodded my thanks, hoping the exchange was over.

She gave me a seductive smirk and turned to walk away. She stopped and looked back when she got to the edge of the roof. "I suppose I could make things interesting. Since you're prepared." She lifted her hands suddenly and a gust of wind ripped a handful of gravel off the roof. Tiny bits of rock shot toward me at bullet speed.

There was a blur of hot pink.

Courtney waved as she stepped over the edge of the roof.

Joy collapsed in front of me, a bloody hand over her stomach.

"Sonic the Hedgehog!" I knelt at her side, gingerly reaching for her bloody hand, afraid to touch it. "You didn't have to do that for me, kid."

She lifted her head to look over herself. "How bad is it, doc?"

"Don't move." I lifted her hand to find some blood stains and nothing more. Not even a hole in her annoyingly pink shirt. "Speedy Gonzoles." I scowled at her. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

She grinned. "I knew you cared for me."

I shook my head and took a closer look at her bloody hand.

"Okay, I might have ended up with a couple holes in my hand," she said, grimacing.

I gave her a fake smile. "You'll be fine. Just keep it elevated," I said, smacking her on the shoulder.

I left her there. She could find her own way to the infirmary. Besides, I couldn't afford to give every kid with something to prove the satisfaction.

I always welcome comments and feedback 🙂 Enjoy!

Still Becoming

The sky had been clear all morning. Too clear, if I’m being honest. It was a fleeting calm, like the kind that doesn’t last.

I cleaned out my locker more slowly than I needed to. Not because I had that much stuff. Just because I didn’t want to be done yet.

The hallway felt different on the last day of the school year.

Like something had already ended, even though we were still standing in it.

Everyone kept saying we were ready.

I’m acting like I’m okay with this. I should be okay with this, but I’m not.

“Bella! Girl, you still have to sign my yearbook. You’re the only one who hasn’t yet.” My best friend, Ellie, smiled, brightening the hall as well as my thoughts.

I took the Sharpie she offered, my heart beating a little faster as I glanced at the signatures displayed across the pages.

Each one felt like something already finished. A chapter already closed.

I paused, the tip of the marker hovering over the paper, before finally writing my note. I signed my name while lockers slammed around us.

People were laughing like it was just another day. Talking about schedules and summer plans. Who they’d have classes with in the fall.

Like nothing was ending. Like our world wasn’t shifting.

I closed the yearbook and handed it back as a group of students walked away.

“You ready?” Ellie asked, sliding the yearbook into her bag.

I shrugged. “I think so. Maybe,” I said. It came out easier than I expected, though I wasn’t sure how much I meant it. I didn’t trust myself to say anything else.

We stepped outside together, the noise of the hallway fading behind us. I felt a sense of comfort as Ellie talked, as she was prone to do. I was happy to listen.

The sparkle on Ellie’s nails flashed, catching my peripheral vision. Ellie would do well in cheer next year. I wasn’t even sure where I fit.

Following the pavement out to the sidewalk, the air shifted. It felt different, heavier. I hefted my backpack higher onto my shoulder, suddenly aware of the space between who I was and who I thought I was supposed to be. My nails were unpainted, as usual.

Would I survive? A new, larger building to navigate? A bigger class?

The buses pulled away for the last time this year, driving past us with the windows down. It felt like life was leaving me behind, and I wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. I wasn’t sure what it meant either.

I looked up just as the first drop hit the pavement. It came slowly at first. The warmth of the rain against my face surprised me. It didn’t feel cold or sharp the way I expected. It felt almost… comforting. Like something waking me up instead of pushing me back.

I smiled at the strange way it seemed to invigorate everything around me—the air, the pavement, even the thoughts I’d been trying to quiet all day.

Then the storm came quicker than expected. It hit my hands first, then my legs.

People scattered almost instantly. Backpacks pulled over heads, laughter turning into shouting as everyone ran for cover.

Ellie grabbed my arm. “Come on!”

But I didn’t move right away. I didn’t want to.

The rain hit harder, faster than it should have, soaking through my sleeves before I even thought to move.

I just stood there.

Watching it, feeling it. Afraid that if I moved, something would end for real. The rain soaked through everything, heavier now, colder and louder. And still, I didn’t move.

It blurred everything around me. The sidewalk, the street, the edges of where one thing ended, and the next began. For a second, it felt like standing between something.

Not here or there. Not middle school or high school. Just somewhere lost in between.

And maybe that was the point.

Ellie’s grip slipped from my arm when I didn’t follow.

“Bella!” she called, already halfway to the overhang where half a dozen other students stood. I spotted several cheerleaders in the mix—Ellie’s teammates for next year.

I smiled and waved her on. “I’m gonna keep going.”

The rain didn’t let up. It soaked through everything, relentless now, steady. The backpack I held over my head offered little cover as the rain pelted down.

I picked up my pace, but I didn’t run. I focused on the rhythm of my steps, placing one foot in front of the other, determined to keep going.

I didn’t want to run anymore.

As I rounded the last corner, my house came into view halfway down the block. The rain softened to a light drizzle, and I lowered my backpack, brushing wet strands of hair from my face.

When I stepped in a puddle, I didn’t try to avoid it. A piece of paper stuck to my boot as I kept walking. I tried to kick it off, but it just clung harder.

With each step I took closer, the clouds began to shift, breaking apart just enough to let sunlight through. The rain slowed until it finally stopped. As I stooped to retrieve the flyer from my boot, the words immediately captured my attention.

Looking for a place to belong? Join the wrestling team!

My eyes scanned the sodden flyer in my hand. In the distance, a rainbow stretched across the sky.

It wasn’t perfect, not even fully formed yet. But it was there. And it was beautiful. A work in progress.

I smiled at the flyer, folding it over to take with me.

Maybe I wasn’t ready. But I wasn’t standing still anymore.