Fighting the Storm
I wrote this a long time a go as a description of fighting depression. Riana is the mc of the first manuscript I wrote, The Dragon’s Eye. For those of you still standing in the gale, keep fighting! Also, creative opportunity: write your own ending in the comments below.
She bared white knuckles to the storm in defiance. Riana shouted back her own thunder. Her odd silver hair streamed with rain blown straight back by wind, violet eyes barely visible slits streamed tears mixing with rain as it ran down prominent cheek bones. Lightening danced in the open field illuminating where Riana stood shin-high in mud. The thunder roared in deep, rolling tomes of anger echoing over and over in the dark sky above her.
“You can’t have me!” she shouted, the words scraping out of her already raw throat like razors. She could feel her heart racing, a caged bird about to beat free from its prison. The breath stung in her lungs as she raged on and on against the storm.
She thought she would drown as she fought in the sheets of rain; her rasping protests outshouted by the fury of the storm. But, she couldn’t run anymore. There was no hiding place where the dark cloud would not follow, daunting her every move, an unwelcome shadow hanging on her shoulders.
The wind blew harder and colder. The rain flew at her like stinging arrows. Riana was forced backward a step. She dug her heels into the slime that used to be solid ground. She crossed tired, slender arms over her tear and rain-stung face and shrieked in agony. Thunder clapped so loudly it knocked Riana to the ground, mud oozing over her body. She stood again when the gale had lessened and prepared for the next onslaught.
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