Like Lightning

A storm was about to blow. And she was standing out there half naked, wearing nothing but her silk blue underwear. Nobody gave a damn. Hell this was Kansas. And it was June and sticky and humid. And even the breeze that blew across her skin was hot and airless and nothin’ but a careless tease. Lord, she could choke just trying to breathe. And she looked like a fool just standing out there–  squeezing onto his letter in her left hand, and staring out into the world with those vacant eyes. For as far as her vacant eyes could see the earth was flat. It was flat and sweaty and ginger. The sky was a thick cloud of charcoal and the sun had been reduced to a tangerine ribbon on the edge of the horizon. Bullfrogs were croaking, the air smelled like potpourri, and golden grains of wheat were belly dancing in the wind– taunting her with their freedom. Boom. The first song of Thunder fell out of the sky. The earth vibrated, her body shook, trees swayed, and a murder of crows rose like ashes from the cracks in between. Oh yes a storm was a blowin. She glanced down at that letter in her hand– hoping that this time the ink had faded, or that the words had been rearranged, or that maybe, just maybe it had ended up in her hands by mistake. “Dear Annabelle, being tethered to you tatters me and I fear that my heart will disappear. Forgive me, Andrew.” Ba-boom, Ba-Bam. There was another crack of thunder. This time loud and deep and right above her. She was too distracted to care, to think, to escape. She closed her eyes and tried to swallow tears, swallow confusion, swallow his phantom. The thunder rolled all around. It rumbled, she cried, the vibrations, the shivers, the heartbreak. Flash. The sky flickered and then came those crooked currents of heaven. Like blue serpents thrown down by winged gods– to punish, to enlighten, to bless. Lightning– Earth, sky, boom, flash. Plump drops of rain began falling. She howled–  into the exploding breast of Mother Nature. Crack. Above her the sky was riddled. Frozen raindrops were colliding. Electrostatic. She could smell fire, copper, smoke, and rain. The world moaned. Her heart screamed. The sky was singing. Flash. There was a glowing red ball. A jagged streak. A magenta bolt. And she was struck. Her body— suspended by electrical currents, surrounded by sparks, encapsulated by lightning. Trapped. Breathless. Bewitched. The lightning flowed from atom to atom, from heaven to hell, from bone to bone and she flopped back and forth like a fish on the shore desperately searching for the sea. She convulsed. She twisted. She rattled beyond control as her legs danced on ancient impulses. Her hair became wings, her skin glowed in shades of sapphire. Her flesh burned, it stung, it blazed. As if she was a shooting star aflame. As if a thousand wasps were making love to her flesh. As if she was melting, liquid, melting. Like lava. Boom. Her pulse shattered. Flash. Her mind fell into a void. Boom. Her future dissolved into a puddle beneath her. Flash. And She fell like fog onto the dirt. Boom. Oh yes a storm came a blowing.