Untitled, Unedited, and Just Barely Started

A storm was gathering. She could feel it with each gust of wind and see it within the gathering of clouds. The sky repented of its lazy shine and turned a reproaching eye towards the land, staring it down with its dark, somber gaze. She could feel the excitement build inside her as she breathed in the scent of the storm. Such a feeling could only exist at this moment, this point of turning, right before the sky unleashed its anger. Some might feel fear, but Erica only felt anticipation and a yearning for this moment to hold her in its clutches forever. Her mount sidestepped beneath, channeling the feelings of his rider. Erica leaned forward to stroke his neck and reassure him in soothing tones. A crack of thunder undid all her ministrations and with a bolt, they were off. Erica grasped the reins and lifted her face to the sky as the droplets of water came rushing towards her. The wind whipped furiously, urging her steed forward, even faster than before. With the look of mischief in her eyes that her mother had learned to dread, Erica dropped the reins and held her hands out to the sky, gathering in as much of the storm as possible. She was reaching out to be a part of the storm for it was truly magnificent. The tight grip of her knees was the only thing keeping her in the saddle as the pair of them, horse and rider, raced past the fields surrounding her home. Brown waves of hair slashed against her face with the wind, and just as quickly gathered behind her head as the wind furiously switched directions. The rain fell harder now, stinging the skin that was unprotected by her dark cloak. Embracing the storm, she stretched her arms wider and threw her head back once more. Laughter poured from her and rose into the storm, only to be whipped into nothingness as the pounding of hooves and heavy breathing of her mount reached Erica’s ears. And just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped. The wind ceased to roar and the clouds withheld their rain.

One deep, regretful breath, and Erica was once again herself. No wild impulses or unrestrained thought. Pushing her hair under her cloak, Erica gathered up the reins into one hand and slowed her horse to a stop. They were home.

So there is the beginning of a story. I’ve always wanted to start one right in the thick of a storm. It seems like the best time for creativity…