I was not ready, when the storm came.
The air became thick, and heavy to swallow.
I cannot name the color of the sky.
Perhaps it was the color of magenta,
or perhaps it was the color of permanence.
I heard the howls of inhumanity, before I felt the wind on my cheeks.
It did not graze my skin.
It whipped through my hair, stinging my body with electricity and self-doubt.
There was an atmospheric pressure, building with impending consequences.
I had heard of acid rain, before; had nightmares of the utter destruction.
But I never even saw the drops falling.
The screams tore through my lungs, creating cracks in my throat, like glass, shattering the possibility of rain.
Eventually I ran out of air.
When I finally turned to the sky, I saw it pouring, in sheets and buckets.
I opened my mouth, surrendering to swallow the water.