A Cloudy Day-Time Frame Short Story | Teen Ink

A Cloudy Day-Time Frame Short Story

November 7, 2018
By AnM123 BRONZE, Lemont, Illinois
AnM123 BRONZE, Lemont, Illinois
2 articles 1 photo 2 comments

The sky was cloudy grey. The breeze had picked up, blowing the tree branches and his cloak. He looked down the hill, towards the town. The little dotlike houses all in a perfect row. He laughed. When he was little, he longed to go to the city, jumping at any opportunity to get there. He looked around at his orchard he was tending. Now that he’s grown up, this place was better for him. A leaf whizzed past his face. The storm would be coming soon. He hurried to get the freshly picked fruit to the hut, just as the first few scattered drops started to hit. Lucky he had learned over the years how to be quick in moving food yet gentle. He sat in the doorway as it turned from a mist to a drizzle, from a drizzle to a torrent. Finally, he shuffled inside, to make a fire.

No sooner had he stepped inside than he heard voices from just beyond the doorway. Who would be dim enough to travel about in this weather?! He shrugged it off to finish setting down the lumber. He hoped that the wind would not shift directions, as his hut was lacking a door from fire damage a few years back. The rest of the house had been recovered. A knocking sound. Now, who could that be? He suspected it had to be one of the voices from earlier, but who knew of his place anyway? BAM. One stomped his way through the doorway. Strangers. You could tell from the way they dressed, the scars they had. The whole air about them was different than anything he had ever known before.

There were four of them. Each wore a mitch match of clothing, from rough armor to baggy clothing. One of them was a girl, but it was clear she was their equal. They each held an assortment of weapons. The sharp end of a spear was pointed at him. He bit his lip. He was at a quite obvious disadvantage. He looked up at these renegades and could only think that there was a chance he’d be dead soon. He was just a lowly peasant, he had nothing for them. He could defend himself in times of need, but he had lowered his guard, thinking himself safe in his own house. He had laid his staff down next to the door. “What do you want?” He broke the near silence at last. They had to be able to hear the nervousness in his voice. “Hmpf.” The snickering didn’t help to calm him any. He looked around the room. Is it joyful to them to torment him?

The storm outside raged on. He was terrified out of his wits. “NAME.” One of the renegades barked at him. It was the tall and skinny one. He stuttered back his reply hastily, to avoid any trouble. A thousand possibilities on what might be ahead racing through his head, each worse than the last. “What do you want?” He asked again, quieter than last time, yet more powerfully.“I’ve taken down a few bears, and you definitely aren’t one.” He spoke with fake confidence. “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble. Besides, there ain’t much to you.” They shared another laugh. “You let us stay here for the night, and you get no trouble, got it?” He looked down at the floor, to weigh his options. The wind was now whistling like a tea kettle, it’s high pitched screams the only thing keeping the silence away.

He rolled his eyes. When it came down to it, these rogues were just like anybody else. They had a “tough” act, but they’d drop it and relax now and again. Just in case, he held his staff to prevent anything from happening. He’d lived in this home for almost his whole life, and he wasn’t about to let some random people break anything. After some time he wanted to leave the silence.  He ambled his way towards the doorway, never taking his eyes off the intruders. Once outside, he found a new refuge. Among the trees, he felt peace. One of the rogues, a short, tubby man, followed him outside. “What do you want?” He asked deflated. “Is that all you ever say? And whatcha doin’ out here in this weather?” He ignored the questions, merely leaned against the nearest tree. The moment was almost serene, even with the rain falling around him. Finally, he decided to say something. “Sometimes it’s safer to stay in the storm. It’s just...too hostile within. I’m so used to being alone.” The fruit had started to fall from the intense winds. “Oh. Well, you do you.” The ruffian waved as he headed back inside. As his cloak was pushed into him, he started to wonder how safe it really was.

BOOM. A crash of thunder. He was still outside. The branch just above him snapped. It rushed into his temple, knocking him unconscious. No one but the rogues was remotely close to where he was. Thunderclaps got closer and closer together. That meant that lightning was striking nearer and nearer. He might never be able to wake again.

A crack of lightning. It was just outside the doorway, perhaps even by the orchard. A devastating force, laying waste to the world, just outside. He refused to open his eyes. He had to be dead, in the heavens. Slowly, he let himself adjust to his surroundings. He was slumped into a chair. His clothes were plastered onto him, wet from the heavy downpour. There was a flickering fire behind him. He had been saved. You can find friends in the most unlikely of places, even strangers and rogues can save your life.

The author's comments:

I started this in a Creative Writing class as a parody of The Story of an Hour but quickly spun it into its own story. 

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This article has 2 comments.

on Nov. 21 2018 at 12:58 pm
bellan18 SILVER, Woodridge, Illinois
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Favorite Quote:
Being successful takes dedication, a passion, and a little bit of talent.


Ybbab said...
on Nov. 21 2018 at 12:58 pm
Ybbab, Lemont, Illinois
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