Another prompt, another round of great responses! Check them out below and vote for your favorite:
Story 1 by Cara Michaels
I woke to the pounding of rain against the windows, the bright flare of lightning pulsing through the pitch-black room in an eerie blue staccato beat. I sat upright in the bed, the pounding of my heart accompanying the roll of thunder. The winds picked up, beating against the glass in the relentless onslaught of tropical weather. Once we were on the opposite side of the storm, the quiet would be almost as unnerving as the rushing growl that never seemed to let up now. My phone buzzed, the blaring alarm reserved for amber alerts and severe weather.
Tornado warning until 2:45 AM
The warning shone bright on the screen, but there was nothing to do about it now. The hurricane was bearing down on us, and there was no getting out of its way now. I lived far enough inland to avoid most evacuation orders, but tornados were a much less predictable animal.
I left my bedroom for the living room, making a quick check on Pandora and Cerese. A soft sob reached through the darkness, followed by a murmuring I couldn’t make out, though the deep tone of the voice identified the speaker as Cerese.
Lightning illuminated the room, outlining the pair of women huddled on my couch. Pandora sat all but in Cerese’s lap, and an odd sensation churned in my gut. It would be easy to call it something simple and stupid, like jealousy. But I was no unenlightened, knuckle-dragging ape.
“You two okay?”
“She’s afraid of the storm,” Cerese said softly. “You know how the Veil thins.”
“The things they did then—” A hint of something defensive hardened Cerese’s tone. “I’m sorry if we woke you.”
I wanted to hug them both. I settled for, “Tell me how to make it better.”
Story 2 by Stacy Overby
A Post-Apocalyptic #Truth
The blond man scrubbed at his face and sighed. Then he looked back at the petite brunette woman sitting in his living room. “You realize what this will do, right?”
“Set off a storm the likes of which this world has never seen. I get it, Lucas.” Her steady green eyes held his.
He finally looked away. “I’m not sure I can be a part of this. Sara, you’re talking about ending the fragile government we’ve been able to create since the EMP Wars.”
Sara surged to her feet. “And I’m supposed to ignore the rampant abuses of power? Look around, Lucas! Too many people are starving to death, dying of diseases we should be curing with ease, or freezing in the crazy weather the government caused.”
“But to expose all that?”
Sara pulled the tattered jacket tighter around her. “Yes, Lucas. The survivors need to understand how much the government is lying to them, is using them to stay in power.”
Lucas threw up his hands. “And you’ve seen the body farms?”
“Yes. I’ve seen it, and no it’s not the Matrix-style farm from those films last century. They keep the people in cages, forced to continue moving all the time. They’re going so far as to capture the heat energy from their prisoners. And they’re sharing none of it.”
He studied Sara’s calm demeanor, the conviction in her body. “You’re sure?”
“Shit. Fine, I’m in. But we need to gather every underground cell we can find across the country. This will be a storm of epic proportions when it hits. And they’ll try to silence us for it.”
“I know.” Sara’s calm steadied Lucas’s nerves.
“I’ll put the call out. We meet next week.”
Story 3 by Terry Brewer
A Sudden Storm
She found herself in a storm, battered from all sides with hail and winds and flashes of lightning. Now a tempest, carrying a ship to the shoals of Bermuda. It had not been, it could not have been forecast. An hour, even half-an-hour before all was calm and serene. Her life passing as it recently had. In a way she had every expectation that it would continue to pass.
They’d kissed when they departed that morning and exchanged “I love you”s as they always did. After lunch, the power went out at her office. Computers were of no use. It was an August Friday, little work would be done anyway, so she and everyone else went home early.
As she closed the door at the house, she heard the unmistakable sound of . . . sex upstairs. Dropping her bag, she rushed up the stairs toward the source. Their bedroom.
The door was open and the passion was loud and her soon-to-be-ex fiancé was naked and atop Agnes. Agnes was several girlfriends before her, and Agnes saw her first. She stopped moving and he followed her eyes to the doorway. Whence “OUT” echoed through the room. “OUT NOW.”
Stunned, he grabbed the pile that was his clothing and, trying to hide his nakedness and with an apology rendered more in fear than in sincerity rushed past her. The two women waited, motionless, for several minutes. Until they heard the front door slam.
Agnes, unabashed in her nakedness, asked like she was the eye of that storm the other found herself lost in “What about me? Do you want me to go?”
Suddenly the other, too, was in the eye and all was calm and all was certain. She answered. “No.”
Let your voice be heard!