It had been a rather nice day to start. Warm breeze, fluffy white clouds rolling across the endless blue sky. Tree branches swayed and groaned, their leaves flapping gently. Though come nightfall, the wind grew a bit stronger, pulling in thick, dark clouds heavy with cool rain.
Water poured in heavy white sheets, washing down long, black roads and soaking into once dry, soft earth, turning it into a thick, dark, slippery mud. The sky darkened as the sun fell lower, hiding it's face from the large clouds. The sky lit up every now and again in brief bursts of light as cruel, twisted white talons of lightning cut through the dark air, leaving behind cracks and rumbles rolling through the chilling air.
Beneath this dark, stormy sky was a small group of homes. The people within were sleeping peacefully, however, in one home, a young woman lay curled upon a large, soft bed. A fan was turned up to the max, an odd sight as flashes of light brightened the chilly room. The woman was huddled under thick covers, shivering and wimpering as she did her best to block out the sounds of thunder.
A loud CRACK resounded through the air and with it a bright flash of light and a loud roll of thunder. The woman screeched, curling into a tight ball and crying. Lightning flashed again and thunder boomed louder as the woman sobbed. She pulled the covers more tightly to her and scooted back to the bed's headboard, rocking in place to try and calm herself.
She took deep gulps of air and she shivered and mumbled to herself.
"I'm safe. I'm calm. I'm happy."
Thunder rumbled through the air and she squeaked, practically vaulting off the bed and running into a closet. She trembled violently, wishing someone was awake. She wished so badly someone would simply hug her through the storm and comfort her. She hated storms. Nobody was ever there to calm her through them. Nobody ever tried asking her why she was so scared. They didn't understand.
They all acted like her fear was as simple as being afraid of a dream. Like it'd go away with time, but with time it only got worse. Her fear was irrational. She knew the storms weren't as bad as her mind made them out to be, but they still terrified her. Loud crashing thunder and bright, flashing lightning. It scared her so much and yet she just didn't know why.
Come daybreak, the storm would be gone. She would be asleep and the birds would be rising to fly and sing. She would awake to her alarm and run up the stairs, full of energy and ready to say goodbye to her father as he headed to work and greet her mother when she came home. Her fear would be long forgotten, as if it hadn't happened. But what about next time?
Would the next storm be stronger or weaker? Would her panic grow and be there forever in the back of her mind or would it vanish in time. She would look out the window and see the morning's clear, grey sky and greet the sun before looking out the window many more times that day. She would become jumpy when she sees a storm coming the next morning on the news. She would hide out downstairs for a few days before feeling safe enough to venture upstairs.
Sometimes she wondered what she was so afraid of. Other times she questioned her existence. But that little voice telling her to keep an ear out for the storms remained. It tortured her and never gave her any peace. She would constantly follow storm news until the day she fell into her grave.
She knew deep down that she needed help, but she doubted she'd ever get it. She doubted anyone would ever care enough to comfort her through her dark fears. But there was still hope. Hope that maybe one day that voice would leave and she'd finally be free of the terror that gripped her heart most days. But that would never happen...
...Would it?...