Thunder surged across the bay. In the sudden storm, small boats capsised. The storm raised the sea, flooding Miller’s Island, and many other islands in the area. This sudden hurricane came from nowhere and was now slamming up the coast, like a huge tornado on the water.
Thunder was pissed.
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Donna was trying desperately to hold onto piece of plywood and drag it to the window where her brother and husband stood. If they could at least get a few boards up, they would save plate glass from shattering into the restaurant. The wind picked up, yanking her sideways.
Phil, her husband, was running her way, yelling into the wind, and she lifted her head to look beyond him. When she did, she stood in near abject terror. Phil stopped, skidding in the rain and falling. He turned to see where she was looking.
A tall, blue skinned man with long white hair, barefoot and in only a long beaded loincloth, stood in the middle of her parking lot. He pointed at her and demanded something in a language she didn’t know. When she didn’t answer, a huge gust of wind blew her and the plywood she was carrying into the plate glass of the store next door. The plywood cracked and split like matchsticks, and she was carried into the store by the wind, scattering racks of clothes until finally slamming into the farthest wall.
The man turned to Phil. He struggled to get up, get out of the way. Suddenly, four cars in the parking lot erupted upward, as if a bomb had gone off under them. They flew up, spinning in the air, landing into the street. The wind picked up behind and to the side of the man, like a huge wave. The rain was like a pure sheet of glass, encompassing a quiet tunnel leading from the man to Phil.
The man looked beyond Phil for a moment, and Phil heard the unmistakable sound of breaking glass and the screech of bending metal. He turned around to see the building itself wave in a severe wind that seemed to pass over the tunnel and Phil. The building was lifted up clear from its foundation and tossed aside like a child would pick up a toy. The building collapsed on top of part of a strip mall; strangely under these circumstances, Phil felt a small joy at seeing a rival restaurant get smooshed under the building.
Phil turned to see the man now next to him. The man looked huge to him, looming over him. His eyes were white all the way through. The man spoke to him in a language he didn’t understand. Then the man reached out. Phil was too terrified to move, as the man’s finger came closer to him, and the man touched his temple.
Phil jerked to a standing position, as if the man had grabbed him and pulled him up. The man said, his voice deep and booming, “Where is the hunter? Where is the black fox who has awakened me?”
“I don’t – ” Was he speaking a whole other language now? “How am I–”
“Your blood speaks.” Then the man then suddenly became smaller, darker, his eyes went from white to brown, and Phil saw that he was looking at himself, as if in a mirror. “I know your blood.” The man slowly raised himself from the parking lot, hovering about a foot from the ground. Then, without warning, he disappeared with a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning.
All that was left was the rain. Phil sank to the asphalt, welcoming it. When the police found him and tried to talk to him, he no longer understood them.
Words: 622
Comment: This is getting me closer to what I want to happen to Casey. However, I’m not sure if I want to introduce a new character, especially a god. I’m not sure if I’d be up to questioning by the Iron Horsemen. If anything, it would be temporary. The god doesn’t know where Soniac is, nor does he really have a clue of anything that’s gone on in the past 200 or so years. His saying “I know your blood” – I’m not sure if Phil is a distant descendant of Casey or if it’s because he’s got some Native American blood in him. The muse won’t tell me. However, there is more for today…