The Storm

Yes, this will work.
Topic: Imagine that you are on a high hill, far from home or any shelter. You see a storm approaching. The air is still; the sun is bright. Then the sky darkens; the wind begins to gust, starting slowly then increasing in velocity. Suddenly, the rain pelts down.

Assignment: Describe this situation in one or two paragraphs. Write freely, thinking only of the stillness, and then the storm. Examine your sentences carefully for the way they begin and their length.

White silence. The sun sends hot whips on my bare, freckled back.

"(I know the storm is overhead,)" "(Yes, I see the clouds," she said.)

This is a line I had once scribbled in my math notebook as I locked myself in the last stall of the girls bathroom so often at lunch period in high school. It now pulsed relentlessly through my brain. I gather my things; little things: an apple, a pad of paper, my white cardigan, (just in case...)
The swelling new presence is friendly, like my own ghost or doppelganger that catches the clever bend at the corner of my lips. The clouds hang heavy, clumsy, like a child who tugs at his mother's skirt.
I face them, deliberately. I invite them. Rain on me. I am a river of ink. "Dust to dust," I say aloud, feeling the vibrations of my own voice undulate past my lips. And then, I am vulnerable. The thunder booms louder than my arrogance and I become that clumsy child I spent so long mocking. I put on the white sweater now, and search frantically for some place to turn. I was always taught to never stand under a tree in a storm, but those outstretched branches calmly seduce, "Come home."

"(I know the storm is overhead,)" "(Yes, I see the clouds," she said.)