As I looked out the window, I could see tendrils of lightning in the sky. The sky was splotches of blue, purple, and gray, with hints of a milky sky emerging from behind. Everything was being showered with sheets of silky rain. The trees were bending in the wind, creaking from the heavy blows of rain. The grass was a carpet of sap green, covering the entire landscape, with tufts of lime green grass. Our house was a mix of limestone and marble, with ragged drapes hanging from the roof, and broken shingles. The inside of the house looked more warm and welcoming. Arabesque rugs covered every visible inch of the floor, and red velvet drapes hung from the tinted windows. I was sitting on the worn, brown couch, looking through the window, when a loud BOOM of thunder erupted from the sky. I shivered, and stared out the window, at the perilous journey that awaited me. The darkness of the forest seemed strangely inviting, beckoning me to begin my collection. It was nice, meeting children, parents, grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, before reaching in and gently tugging at their souls to come loose. I carried them, nestled in my arms that were as wide as the universe, but as small an atom. I settled them in the clouds, light and airy, white and puffy. There were hundreds of souls in each cloud, trillions in just a handful, before the clouds turned dark and gray, and fragments of souls were soaked up by the earth, seeds to begin new lives. There were probably billions in this bunch, and as morning dawned, I would set out again.