Tempest

• Kaitlin Townsend, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2014

I look out along the beach, no other living being in sight save a few birds wielding up and down in the clear, azure sky. The sun shines brightly down on me, warming my skin as a cool breeze embraces me and encourages me in the face of my forthcoming challenge. As I walk deliberately toward the ocean my breathing quickens and hands shake as I finally fully fathom what I must do. Then I am at the water’s edge. Frozen.
The last glimmers of the sun fight against the omnipotent storm looming almighty on the horizon. The air become static with electricity as the squall rolls closer to the shoreline where my feet are embedded in the gritty sand. The wind dances a wild waltz, screaming and dancing erratically along the beach in anticipation of the coming storm.
The metallic stench of electricity is burnt into my memory as the tempest overhead reaches the beach and lashes a stroke of lightning across the sky’s back. Growling in protest, the sky unleashes its response. A barrage of rain attacks me from all angles. Arrows of ice and water are shot at me, unrelenting in the face of my pain.
Howling and wailing the zephyr yawps unknown words at me, taunting me, driving me toward where earth meets ocean. Roiling, boiling, tumbling the ocean tosses and turns, agitated as its slumber is disturbed. Churning, it whips its salty hands up to slap at my face. Clouds of grey foam lick at my blue toes as I turn and take a step back, into the wind. “How dare you step down from this”, I think I catch it yelling. “How dare you do not accept this challenge?”
I twist, trying to retreat from tossing liquid. It’s bruised with violent shades of purple, blue, green and black. It slinks up to me like a cat, enticing me toward it while hiding its cunning underneath. It rubs around my ankles, craftily, pulling me along with it until I realise what is happening.
I shield my eyes from the onslaught of the elements as the storm lets loose another stroke across the heavens at the sign of my unrelenting stubbornness. “Just jump in!” The sky thunders at me. “Just jump in and stop all of this!” A wall of ice-cold rain and calculous sand forms at my back, preventing my escape. I see a lone bird pushing through the wind, insistent that it will not win.
I jump as the storm lashes out two, three, four times in rapid succession. I seal my eyes closed as I am blinded and clap my hands over my ears as I wait for the thunder that is to come. I can almost hear the sky already booming in pain. But then there is nothing. The wind stops screaming and the ocean stops slapping my face, instead, they both seem to be caressing me, soothing my wounds and healing my senses. The sand stops thrashing around me and the rain eases to a pattering of almost nothing. The metallic static electricity on the wind recedes and the call of birds strengthens as they announce their return from their hiding places. I feel a tender breeze flow gently along the beach, chasing the squall as it moves on.
That is when I see the destruction and wonder the tempest has left in its wake and realise I must do it. So, I slip the colourful beach bag from my shoulder, set it down on the pearly white sand and slide slowly, hesitantly, into the ocean’s welcoming arms.