Stormy Weather

As the rain pattered down and the clouds rumbled, hate and sorrow consumed Matt. It enveloped him and flowed through his mind like an unstoppable flood, washing away every rational thought with it. His surroundings offered no support. He found no consolation in the cold, hard bluestone beneath him; no words of comfort from the darkening sky above; no encouragement from the fences behind or in front. The only life in the laneway could be found in the weeds shooting feebly up through cracks in the blocks.
The rain was getting heavier, starting to seep through his clothes. On any other night he would have hurried home, but not tonight. Tonight, home seemed like more of a prison, a hell. He was content to huddle in this nameless lane a few blocks away from the house he’d fled from an hour earlier.
He clutched his legs to his chest, buried his chin in between his knees and let his tears join the puddle of rainwater forming at his feet. He felt cold, colder than he had felt in his entire life.
Matt tried to remember the last time he’d been happy. The only image he could call to his mind was his mother. His sweet, caring, decaying mother.
God, I miss her, he thought. I miss her more than anything. Coffins were nailed shut for a reason though. He slipped a pale hand into his pocket and drew out a damp photograph. In it was a woman with golden-blonde hair. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with joy as she held a little toddler who bore a shocking resemblance to her. She wore a radiant grin, revealing a set of crooked but attractive teeth. He nearly wretched thinking about the monster that now slept in her bed, ate at her table, sat on her couch.
He sobbed, no longer caring if anyone saw him. Putting the photo back in his pocket, he half-heartedly kicked a rock away from him. Thunder rumbled as he did so, and a few houses away a cat screeched.
The only thing more evil than her was the other monster who had given her the keys. It sickened Matt to think he had that man’s, no, that bastard’s, DNA in him. He prayed that there wasn’t a gene for breaking the heart of the woman who loves you.
The sound of footsteps made Matt raise his head. Standing a few feet away was an Asian girl, drenched to the bone. She was slightly shorter than average and unconventionally beautiful. Dots of rain darkened her Muse t-shirt and jeans. Her chocolate coloured eyes looked directly into his watery green ones.
Finally, she spoke, “Hey, Matt.”
“Hey, Sophie.”
She sat down beside him and he felt her arms curl around his shoulders. He leant his head on her shoulder, his arms around her waist, staring at nothing.
“It’s his fault she’s dead.”
“I know.”
“She died driving to confront him.”
“I know.”
After a few moments he pulled his slim frame upright. He wiped the tears from his eyes, leaving only fierce determination. Lightning streaked across the sky.
“I’m gonna kill him.”

Stormy Weather


Joined August 2010

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Again, something dug out of my writing folder. Tell me what you think, I’m curious to see if I was as poor as I thought I was.

desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait
desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

10% off

for joining the Redbubble mailing list

Receive exclusive deals and awesome artist news and content right to your inbox. Free for your convenience.