Samantha Hughes

AP Lang and Comp

Ms. Kish
23 November 2015
Storm Clouds
She had always hated storms, there was something about the slowly creeping black
clouds and the sense of inevitability that unnerved her. The way people would stop every now
and then to give the sky a last pleading look before their shoulders slumped, hopeless, and
continued on to whatever mundane errand they had to do. She had always claimed nature could
never be her match, cursing the oceans, the mountains, the rivers, small fists held in the air, she
wanted to be her own decider, a force even nature couldnt reckon with. But storms, with their
shimmering droplets of light, and its very own soundtrack was something not even she would
mess with.
Beautiful skies, the man with the glow-in-the-dark smile on television had promised
her, straightening his already immaculate tie. He had promised, Nothing but blue skies from
here until Monday, a great time to take a beach trip. She wasnt sure what happened next or in
what order, her phone in her hands, already flying through the numbers she knew by heart, or a
smile, one that spread rapidly across her face and seemed to grow with her excitement.
They were on the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel, and her best friend next to
her screaming off key to their favorite song. Windows down, she felt like a queen, like someone
who could take on the whole world head first and own it. Salt air began to mingle with the faint
smell of car exhaust and coffee, a scent that smells exactly like home. She looked for the exit,

her narrowed eyes finally scanning the horizon when she notices the clouds. They had suddenly
turned dark, ominous, bloated with rain, ready to spill at any moment. Its whatever, her friend
screamed over the music, tugging lightly on the golden ends of her hair, a nervous tick, Well
stay at my house tonight, and hit the beach tomorrow. I wanted to shower anyway.
Hours from home, they drove head first into the storm.
Rain poured around them, sounding like tiny bullets against the metal of the car, she felt
like she was in a war zone. The windshield wipers just couldnt keep up, they were useless
against the constant rain that seemed to come down in sheets instead of drops. And she, was even
more useless, as the wind pushed the car this way and that she prayed they were still inside of the
lines, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into her parents bed and hide under the covers like
she did as a child. The car was silent, the music finally quiet, as she gripped the steering wheel
until her knuckles turned white, she hated storms, she really truly hated them.
She had read somewhere that the reason people jerk in a car when it comes to a stop is
because the people inside are still going the same speed the car was when it stopped. Shed
always wondered with morbid curiosity, that since one could clearly feel the abrupt stop at 20
miles per hour, what it would feel like at 40, 50, 60 miles per hours. She had told her best friend
once, that she thought it would feel like getting hit in the chest with a soccer ball. Oh, how wrong
she was. Instead, it felt like the sun exploding inside of her, filling up every gap with red hot pain
when her car wrapped itself around a tree. She must have screamed though she cant be sure, the
only thing she can be sure of is the last thing she saw before she blacked out; golden curls slowly
dripping red.

Her mother claimed it would be good for her, her nasal voice pleading with her to come
quietly and without much fuss from her former life. Her father promised it would be a clean
break, his tired eyes giving away the truth inside his lie; it would be a clean break for them, not
so much her. Her troubles would follow them like the storm cloud, creeping slowly behind their
tightly packed car no matter how many miles they drove, for her troubles now started and ended
with her head. Darkness had somehow entwined itself into her neurons when her car hit the tree,
making its home right beside her cerebral cortex, constantly dripping, drop by drop, into the rest
of her body.
The storm clouds had shattered, transforming itself from a light drizzle into a category
five hurricane before her very eyes, wrecking everything in its path. When the winds finally
settled it left nothing more than a half-crazed girl, wild-eyed and in little else but a hospital
gown, amongst the debris of what had once been her life. Her mother packed the remains of the
wind-worn glass into neat little boxes, and they were moved within a week.
She had always hated storms, but now they followed her.