Stage 5

Updated: Mar 10, 2020

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.