Thunder, Evelyn J. Steward [read this if txt] 📗

Thunder

Above, the intense blackness pressed down on her like an anvil, heavy, noxious; it was as if she could smell It wanting her, pressing her. At the base of the cliff the ocean roiled as tornado like, the gale whipped the top of each wave with furious delight.
She saw the first one from the corner of her eye, fsr away, and yet she was sure.
The rail she clung to was unsafe. She edged along the cliff top path as both hands were needed when the wood suddenly gave way to the pressure.
Large spits of rain began to sting her face and sharp rivers of acidic water ran down her cheek, her chin and on down over her protruding bones. Her wind-whipped hair flung itself across her eyes, blinding the moment.
She felt rather than saw the beginning of the next, abd as she turned her head the brilliant blue-white arc flashes descended from the heavens. It was close. Deep within her ample body a jarring bone-rubbing feeling began and travelled through her chilled flesh to meet and join the low rumbling above. The a sudden crescendo of sound like that of as mythical blacksmith beating an iron hammer repeatedly on the shoe of a Valkyrian steed.
The next one came almost immediately after, so near. No rumbling this time but a sudden crashing as of a giant symbal. There was no malice just raw natural power needing an escape from sum total, awe-inspiring power; this was thw worlders long fetters.
A shrill laugh escaped her lips and anchoring herself to a nearby tree, she threw her arms in the air and languished in the emotional tide that swept over her at each thunderous tumult. This was better than sex any day; this was world crushing Nature at her most fearsome. The woman was exhilarated; she was becoming one with the storm that railed about her. It’s sexual plaything. Man was puny compared to this and she was risking all for the sensation.
One more violent crash and it moved on. She felt weak, she felt used. She caught her breath, suddenly drained of all emotion. The climax had been so sweet.
The wind dropped fast until it was only a toying breeze. The tree became her crutch to lean upon until she regained her strength.
At last she was able to move slowly away from the pinnacle, back to inanity, back to her little boring life, back to reality…….until the next storm came along.

Copyright Evelyn J. Steward 23rd September 1992

Publication Date: 10-14-2011

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