Storm Child

There’s a storm brewing.  It reminds me of a story I once heard from a guy while we both waited in a quiet bar for our dates.  There was a storm that night too and while the rained hammered at the windows he told me a story.  He said that there’s something behind each storm, something terrifying, something as full of misery and anger as the very storm’s themselves.  This intrigued me and I wanted to know what it was.  It was then that the guy told me about Sarah…

Sarah Dale was her name.  She lived alone in her house.  She was in her late 20’s and single.  Had a normal job in an office and had a small group of friends she was very close to.  Sarah liked keep fit so she had an athletic build.  She had shoulder length brown hair the same colour as her eyes. 

Life was normal for Sarah, an average existence with nothing unusual happening to her, leading a quiet and pretty predictable life. 

It was late January.  Cold.  A dark night with equally dark clouds blocking out any light that the full moon may have given.  The street lamps were giving off a dim light in the gloomy night.  The air was damp and had a chill about it. 

Sarah comes home from another boring and stressful day at the office.  She’s glad to be home and out of the night air. 

She goes upstairs, changes, works out, showers and dresses, ready now to relax in front of the TV.  She makes herself dinner – a ready made meal just left in the microwave for a few minutes.  While in the kitchen, she notices the wind.  Its strong and loudly blows about the shrubbery in her garden.  It whistles through the branches of the tree in next doors garden and howls as if taking on a life of its own. 

The microwave bleeps and Sarah takes her meal into the living room, settles down and starts to eat.  Engrossed in her television programme, she does not notice the wind steadily increasing.  A while later, the programme finishes and Sarah takes her nearly empty plate to the kitchen, its then that she realises that a storm has been brewing and that the wind is now pelting down rain onto her little house.  Curiously, Sarah pulls back the net curtain and looks out into her back garden at the falling rain.  It’s too dark outside to see, so she cups her hands around her face and pushes her nose up against the window.  At that precise moment there’s a lightning flash across the dark sky.  The bright flash dazzles Sarah and she pulls away from the window to hear a loud clap of thunder.  Finding storms exciting and unsatisfied with only her brief glimpse of this one, Sarah once again cups the side of her face and looks out into the garden.  After a few moments there is another flash of lightning.  This one is not as bright or as quick as the first and lights the sky intermittently for several heartbeats.  During that last illuminating second, Sarah sees something at the very back of her garden.  So quickly was the sight over that Sarah cannot confirm what it was in her mind.  Pulling back from the window once more, Sarah could have sworn she’d seen a small person.  The thunder rumbles and Sarah thinks Is my mind playing tricks on me?  A cautious curiosity now nags at Sarah and so once again she looks through the window.  She does not wait long before the lightning comes.  But this time the figure is there straight away and is much closer to her back door than before.  Sarah instinctively jumps back.  This time she had still only gotten a glance at the small figure, but was sure she’d seen someone out there.  They had been walking towards her house, advancing through the lashing rain without hindrance, moving with purpose.  She had been unable to make out the face or any other details, just a silhouette in the darkness, outlined by the lightning.  Sarah’s heart beat’s fast after this unexpected sight and a chill runs through her.  The loud thunder makes her jump.  Sarah smiles and starts laughing to herself How can I be so silly?  No ones out there.  How could a person get into my back garden?!  There’s no way except through the house and no one that small could climb the high fences either side…  Sarah turns to walk away, but after only two short steps she can go no further.  Feeling that she must confirm to herself that indeed her mind is to blame for this fleeting sight, Sarah turns back to the window.  Slowly, anxiously, she once again cups her face and looks out into the darkness.  The intermittent lightning cuts the sky once more and Sarah looks out into her empty garden.  Nothing.  No one is there.  Sarah again smiles to herself in amusement at how tense she has become and also in unconscious relief at the sight of nothing.  The thunder rolls across the sky and as if it was a signal, the wind dies down and the heavy rain eases.  Sarah turns and walks to the kitchen light switch.  She turns out the light and begins to walk back to her television, but before she can take a single step, she hears a quiet tapping at her kitchen window.  Spinning back round Sarah stares into the darkness of her kitchen at the offending window.  She turns the light back on and walks slowly to the window, swallowing hard as she moves.  A sudden blast of rain against the glass make her pause and doubt that the tapping she had just heard could be anything other than the weather.  But then the tapping comes again, slower this time and far more definable.  Knowing that this could not be the rain, Sarah is both afraid and curious.  The wind howls as it smothers her garden.  She continues to the window.  Nothing happens for several seconds until suddenly there is a loud knocking at the window.  Now Sarah’s curiosity is gone and replaced by nothing but fear.  She runs from the kitchen and to her telephone in the living room.  She snatches the phone up and dials quickly. 

“Which service do you require?” asks the calm voice. 

“Get me the police!” she cries. 

A moment later another voice answers “Old Town Police Department, please state the nature of your emergency.”

“There’s someone in my back yard, they’re trying to break into my house!”

“Okay ma’am, give me your address and we’ll send someone over right away.” 

Sarah reads out her address and begs them to hurry, but as she pleads for their speedy assistance the line goes dead and the TV and the lights go off. 

Surrounded in darkness Sarah feels a chill race down her back and goose bumps cover her arms.  A feeling of coldness envelopes her and she cannot tell if the air has turned cold or if the feeling of fear within her is to blame.  Then, just a short space in front of her, at the living room window, there is a slow and deliberate tapping coming from behind the drawn curtains.  Tap…  Tap…  Tap…

Sarah freezes with fear, unable to look away from the concealed window.  Then again, much faster this time, taptaptap.  Silence covers a long moment before Sarah puts the phone receiver down into the darkness and leans towards the curtains.  She snaps them open in a quick movement and as she does the storm grows once more.  Rain hammers her window and another flash of lightning reveals the outside to her.  Nothing.  No one is there.  The trees on her street shake violently during the loud thunder as the wind ravages them and the rain runs down her window, but there is nothing present that should not be there.  Sarah releases her grip on the curtains and backs slowly into the centre of her living room.  As her eyes scan the window she notices that there is a small circle just above the window sill, on the outside of the glass that seems to be untouched by the rain, as if something had been covering that particular piece of the glass. 

In the door way behind her there is a silhouette.  The small outline of a child.  Sarah senses that there is something there, something watching her and turns, but she sees nothing as the child’s shape is gone.  All at once Sarah begins to hear something.  At first it is barely audible; a whimpering sound, the sound of someone crying.  The sound of a child crying and its coming from upstairs.  Sarah’s eyes widen in fear, a horrible uncontrollable fear of the unknown.  As the tiny hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck begin to tingle, she walks to the foot of her staircase to try and determine what could be making this sound.  Suddenly the gentle crying turns into a screaming wail and Sarah turns sharply throwing a hand onto her front door’s handle.  But the door won’t open.  Sarah pulls and yanks at the door but it does not budge and the wailing continues.  The screams are loud and drive their way through Sarah.  Giving up the futile attempt to open the door, she turns back to face the staircase.  Sarah begins to feel a pull towards the source of this unbearable crying.  The sound is so sorrowful and so ridden with anger, pain and loss, that Sarah’s heart thunders in her chest as she takes the first step.  She begins to shake with fear, each step becoming harder and harder to take and the nearer she gets to the top of the stairs, the more violent the shaking becomes.  Sarah rounds the banister at the top of the stairs and takes her first step towards her bedroom – the source of the crying.  Her bedroom door is as she left it; slightly open but not enough to see into the room.  Sarah reaches out a quivering hand to push the door, but as her hand nears the wood, the door is slammed shut to coincide with another loud blast of thunder. 

Sarah is now so petrified that tears have begun to roll from her eyes.  Her shaking hand reaches once more for the door and this time meets no resistance as she turns the handle and pushes the door open.  All at once the crying stops.  The silence is almost as terrifying as the wails.  Sarah stares into the darkness of the room anxiously, building the courage to enter.  The attraction to whatever had been crying has grown and Sarah feels compelled to move forward into the room.  She takes several steps in one swift moment of bravery and is standing in her room, her back to the wall near the door, looking out across the bed at the window.  The dim illumination from the street lights show the room is empty.  All her things are exactly where she had left them earlier, possessions have not been touched or moved.  Seeing that there is nothing here, Sarah’s fear lesson’s slightly and she moves away from the wall towards the bed, wiping her tears away on the back of her shaking hand.  As she moves, there is a strange whispering sound, as if many voices are whispering all at once, but none of the words they are saying make any sense.  As quickly as it had started though, the whispering stops and Sarah takes her next step forward.  The movement of her own reflection in the tall mirror at her side catches Sarah’s attention and she glances at it.  The mirror reflects her but she is not alone.  Standing with his arms wrapped around her and his head resting on her hips is a small boy.  Sarah’s breath leaves her as the shock of this sight hits her.  She looks down sharply, but there is no one there.  Once again she looks into the mirror and sees the boy.  She can feel and see nothing around her and as she stares at the reflection cold sweat breaks out and begins to cover her.  Frozen to the spot, unable to look away from the dull reflection, Sarah’s heart feels as if it will burst from her chest.  She continues to stare, transfixed by the image and as she does she sees that the child before her is also afraid.  He clings to her as a frightened child would cling to its mother during any storm.  Sarah’s fear slowly begins to wane as she starts to feel the natural mothering instinct to protect, that is born within all women.  There is a flash of lightning and Sarah blinks, but when she opens her eyes the boy is gone.  He is no longer shown in the mirror and does not appear in any other fashion. 

There is a low rumbling of thunder and the rain dies down once more.  The wind calms and all at once the lights come back on.  The sound of Sarah’s television can be heard in the background.  Sarah looks around the room and sees that all is as it should be.  All except the lock of silver hair she now has curling down from the side of her fringe amongst her thick brown hair.  The hair shimmers in the light.  Sarah looks at the silver strand more closely in the mirror, holding it between her still shaking fingers. 

There is a loud knock at her front door and she jumps.  Sarah walks to the bedroom door and stares out, looking down the staircase waiting to see if there is a second knock.  She does not wait long.  This knock is nothing like the tapping that plagued her earlier, so she hurries to the foot of the stairs and tries to open the door.  She expects it to be still lodged and so gives a mighty yank.  To her surprise the door opens easily and the two soaked police on the other side of the door are caught off guard.  As Sarah looks out onto her porch, she notices one of them jump at her sudden appearance. 

“We had a report of an attempted break-in at this address?”

Sarah explains that she is sorry, but it was just the storm making her uneasy, casting shadows and making her think that someone was there. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like us to take a look around?”

Sarah rejects their attempt to come in out of the rain.  “Everything is alright now” she answers far more calmly than she expected and as much to convince herself as to answer their question.  The police frown and shake their heads as they walk back through the drizzling rain to their car. 

Sarah watches them leave as the rain begins to stop altogether, then closes the door.  Her fear now gone and replaced by a sense of calm, the calm after a storm, Sarah strolls back up to her bedroom and to the mirror to once more gaze at the silver hair now appeared on her head. 

The guy who told me this said that they say the Storm Child is a lost soul.  A boy who’s life was ended far too soon by a storm.  Now when a storm is at its worse he can still be seen trying to escape his fate, doomed to forever run with the storms, seeking refuge from them, trying to find the safety of his mother’s arms once more.  I thought to myself Yeah, nice ghost story pal, but you expect me to believe that?  What a pile of crap!  Then the guy’s date turned up and as the guy got up and left with her I noticed, she had a strand of silver hair…

So the next time you’re sitting at home, watching your television and paying no attention to the storm outside, just remember:  there’s something behind each storm, something terrifying, something as full of misery and anger as the very storm’s themselves.  That something is the Storm Child.  Now are you sure that’s the rain tapping at your window?

The End…