Σκότος :|: Storm

Lying in bed, I slowly awaken to the staccato sound of pattering rain. A low rumble of thunder vibrates through my belly. I feel a surge of exhilaration and leap from the bed. Pulling the cord to raise the wooden window blinds, I rejoice at the gothic view from the window.

The world seems drained of color. It is muted and sullen, filled with gray tones and deep black shadows. The grass is a slick, dark bottle green. The red pickup truck in the alley appears a dull maroon. A quick flash of light bleaches everything for a split second, making the darkness that follows a dramatic chiaroscuro. The sky roils with a mass of thick gray clouds. They have a menacing black underbelly enhanced by bright white edges where the sun struggles to be revealed.

A few street lights have come on, cutting through the haze with a spicy orange glow. Other sparse lights in the city create a pattern of dots and dashes in different colors. A Neon sign flashes glowing words that contrast against the muted bricks of the storefront.

It is a beautiful day! For this moment, I don’t miss the blue skies and vibrant colors of a sunny summer day. The stormy gloom gives me hope. Opening the window, I lean out as far as I can. I don’t mind being drenched in the rainy deluge. I think only of the relief from the dangers of sunlight. I rejoice at the prospect of moving through the daytime world uncovered, skin bare to the wind and rain. I am protected from the sun by the thick layers of cloud cover. I rush to the door and fling it wide. The rain drives in hard, almost sideways. I pause, feeling that pregnant moment before I step out into the open.