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riverioli · 3 months

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Storm Cloud

Sailing through a cloud is a bitter experience. You’re plunged into a misty realm of suspended water droplets that sting your skin with ice. You can barely see a hand’s length ahead of you. It is so cold and miserable you wonder if you’ll ever be able to move again. Sailing through a storm cloud is simply suicide.

It had been pretty much smooth sailing up until that point. I remember I had been wandering the deck waiting for someone to tell me what to do. I was wrapped up, of course, being at such a high altitude. I stamped my feet to keep warm. Our whale was singing into the evening, keeping us and our boat afloat in the endless sky. I was whistling some tune I’d heard on a dock a few weeks gone when it suddenly seemed as though we were plunged into nothingness. Complete darkness. The cloud had crept up on us like a wild cat stalking prey, and now we were clutched in its talons, taken as its plaything. Let me tell you it tossed us around for all we were worth. The air seemed to crackle with electricity; lightning waiting to strike. A split second and there was chaos on deck, the captain barking orders, men running everywhere. I found myself running to the side and looking over at the whale. It was bellowing with fear and writhing. The wind tossed it this way and that. The wild cat continued to toy with us. Ice as large as boulders rained down upon us, heaven’s wrath upon our souls. One crushed into the main mast, flinging netting and sails and people out into the crackling beast. Another struck the fin of our whale, who let out an otherworldly wail that deafened us and brought me to my knees.

It seemed like time froze. And then I heard my name drifting over the wind, sharp and urgent. “You’ve gotta go down there! You’ve gotta calm her down!” I cursed every god in existence. I had been hoping and praying to be forgotten in the chaos. That no one would remember the whale’s strange obsession with me. And I with it, of course, though I never admitted it then. In calmer weather, when we floated low and skimmed the surface of the ocean, I would clamber overboard and climb down her back. There I would sit and sing her new songs I’d heard, or tell her tales, or even just talk. She would half close her eyes and croak and hum, such a vibration that warmed the entire ship. I was finally useful. Of course they wouldn’t forget. “Pit! You’ve gotta get down there!” The captain roared over the storm. Other members of the crew ran towards me, and I found myself stuffed into a makeshift harness thrown overboard into the eye of the storm.

There was a moment where I felt like I was flying and then I crashed into her fin. It was slick with blood. The ice had pierced the tough skin and buried itself there, like some morbid jewel. They had ordered me to first pull it out, clean and treat the wound. Something about steering her away from the storm; balance. I knew it was futile, and any time wasted was more time in this blasted storm. Thunder and lightning lit up the sky, rattling my bones. I kept low to the ground, desperate to find any sense of gravity. I was trembling, sweating, freezing. I could have died of exhaustion right then and there. I crawled hand and foot to her side and began to scale the great mountain of flesh. There was no grip, my hands were coated in blood and her skin was soaking wet, but I planted by feet and pulled myself up by the rope connected to the ship. All else faded, it was just me and her, and the storm.

I reached the top, ready to burst with exhaustion. My vision was blurring, my muscles aching. I stumbled down to her head. Her eyes were wide, frightened, glazed over with pain. She did not see me, I doubt she even felt me place a reassuring hand on her. “What do I do now, old girl?” I sat between her eyes, gods know how I wasn’t swept away by the wind. “What can I do?” Tears were streaming down my cheeks, mixed with rain, and I began to hum her song. The song of my whale. It wasn’t loud, I could only feel it in my throat as the wind ripped it from my lips. But there, in the heart of the storm, I heard her begin to sing.

Later, the captain swore our song killed the storm. The wind died down and we soon found ourselves in a beautiful empty sky. We sank below the clouds and floated down to the sea. They found me, half-dead at the base of her head, in between her eyes. We vowed to never sail through a storm cloud again.

#writing #literature #short story #fantasy #whale #boat #storm #fantasy writing #original fiction

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