Phantoms of the night breach the day

Last night the storms billowed in under the cover of darkness.  They had visited upon us great sorrows throughout the fullness of the previous night, and again around ten last evening they arrived with violence and torrents.  Like shadow ghouls hiding betwixt the earth and stars, they came in fits and starts, magnificent phantoms of lightning bellowing their war cries through the air in tremendous claps of thunder, and with them they brought more rain.

A tumultuous sleep did I grasp to my breast through the onslaught.  Even as my body desperately begged for rest, fatigued as it was from a long week of toiling labor, I awoke constantly to the sound of windows rattling, electrified air screaming in deafening roars, and showers pelting the outside of the house as fervent gusts raged.

Toss and turn, I did, for even as such events ring in my ears like so many lullabies, the angry skies saw fit to launch vehement attacks in a steady progression that lasted most of the night.

And today?

Ah, but could we wait yet another six hours…

Such a thing will not be, however, for even now the heavens unleash angry words from dark, threatening clouds.  They roil and boil, nature’s own black magic taken form in a potion made of air and water and energy.  And intent.

I feel the air upon my skin like a wet tee shirt dipped in warmth.  The humidity remains high, much higher than normal, its portrait a behemoth of churning shades of gray tossed haphazardly throughout the sky.  I find individuals amongst these celestial beings, yet I also see them questing to join one another so that they might become something more, something stronger, something bigger, something angrier and more powerful and…

Well, and more dangerous.

We have yet to clear the flood warning held over our heads for two weeks, one now extended until it is canceled rather than until a specific time.

There exists not one bit of land which does not cave under the weight of the lightest of feet, a mushy substance once called ground that even now seems an entirely different thing, a soft, perplexing thing long passed being wet earth.

What brings Nature upon her angry steeds this afternoon?

More storms.  More rain.

What tempest now rages against us?  What ethereal beast now unleashes its angry tirades on this world?  What tearful leviathan sees not the harm its lamentations cause?

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