Thursday, 2 August 2012

Storm

We were sitting in the disused airport when the storm came. We were sitting beneath the wreck of old pirate ships and the sculptures of hungry crows angled to the sky. We could see it coming long before it arrived.

A greenish-black mushroom cloud sat in the midst of the sunset like a smudge of evil spirits in a gas lamp at dusk. Beams of light spilled out the edges while the smudge harrumphed down to the horizon and squatted malevolently. We did not mind its malevolence; in the distance, the storm was a well-timed aperture that made the snapshot of the evening sublime.

The wind made the broken sales of the pirate ships cackle and flap. A tack-tack-tack of beating rags. When the first drips hit us, we were cocky as the spinning wheels of skateboards and we looked to the heavens and we swore it would pass us by.

    This moment it was drizzle and the next it was pelting with sumo wrestler raindrops, rain     like fat angry bees protecting the hive.

I closed my ears when James gasped and gulped. I had been inside too long with too many moments spent waiting for the wheel of the internet to turn, a slow cantankerous waterwheel here, a sad sit for a brain used to rampaging. 

This was not a British rain. This was a rain that pummeled and exploded on our skin. In moments, my polyester frock was wallpaper paste slathered across my body. I angled my face to the sky and I grinned the grin of the Infinite Goof.

    Thunder cleared his throat. Lightning leapt the high dive and performed a triple pike. And,     under the whims of the wind, the wine bottle teetered.

We stood up. In the expanse of the airport, all unfurling runways and higgeldy allotments, our heads were the highest conductors. In bare feet and wallpaper paste, I walked towards the tarmac.

It was still hot to stand upon. While the ground slammed against the raindrops—like fifties teenagers learning the twist—it was still hot, I swear.

We passed the man with the kite, who was cackling.

He was laughing about tomorrow’s newspapers, while he played an infinite poker with the sky.

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