Nights were usually calm in the neighborhood- the sky veiled in a black shroud interrupted only by the pale moon-who’s light filtered through wisps of clouds- and shimmering stars. Nocturnal creatures slinked out of their daytime refuge into the crisp air of twilight. Most of the time the atmosphere was comfortable and welcoming after dusk. But nature was thrown on a loop and decided to rebel. Most of the nights in the neighborhood were as explained, but not this time.

Tara Symeth walked briskly down her block, all too aware of the storm playing out. Rain pelted her from all sides, swirled out of whack by screaming winds. Her boots squeaked and sloshed along, seeming to find every little mud hole and puddle to sink into. It was terrible. A gust of air rushed into her face as Tara reached her property. Her hood was thrown back, unleashing her frizzy hair from its neat little bun. She cursed silently, mumbling incoherent profanities as she tried to pry open the gate. With her hair whipping around her face and tangling with itself, she hopped over the rain slick fence. She landed with a splash on her lawn and bolted for the door, avoiding the muck sucking at her feet.

After hours of torrential rain, lightning finally cracked across the sky. It was followed immediately by a glass-shattering boom that made Tara jump as she fumbled for her keys. Wind shrieked at her once more, threatening to pull her away, before she wrenched the door open and dashed inside.

Leaning against the wall, she let out a sigh of relief. “Fucking weather can’t make up its mind,” she grumbled while wringing out her hair.

The past week had been confusing for everyone. Weathermen predicted something and the opposite happened. It would be a beautiful day and without warning, a violent squall would roll in. Or sometimes a storm assumed to last hours would disappear after five minutes. The whole ordeal left everything abnormal. The topsoil on Tara’s lawn was loose and slid onto the streets during rain, her grass and flowers were drowning, and some trees were being uprooted from winds and mudslides.

Trying to ignore the eerie wind howling from outside, she walked around the house checking for leakage. Grabbing a towel from the closet, she rubbed her arms dry and pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail. Already feeling the humidity sticking to her skin, she flipped the air conditioner on and walked to the bathroom. Turning to the mirror, she stared at herself with dull green eyes, examining the damage. Her eyeliner was smudged and sweat was beaded at her hairline. Her untamable chocolate hair was knotted; a few strands escaped the rubber band to form a chaotic frame around her face. In her opinion, it was the worst sight she’d ever seen.

Grimacing at the wolf-man in the mirror, she turned on the faucet and let it warm. The weather still raged on outside, the wind hurling itself at the house. The bathroom window unexpectedly popped open, the shutters banging wildly against the side of the house. Tara jumped into the shower and shut the window, securing the lock. Wiping dirty rain off her face, she went back over to the sink. She cupped her hands under the running water and splashed it on her face, letting it trickle down and fall with little plinks on the marble sink. Grabbing an orange fluffy towel, she flicked the faucet off and patted the dampness off her face.

Sliding into a pair of slippers, she made her way to nowhere in particular. Life had turned so boring, so pointless, after she dropped out of college. Waking up in the morning became an unwanted occurrence; after all, what was there to wake up to? In her childhood there had always been a place where her imagination took her. Everything had been a colorful world of games and if she needed an escape, she merely had to close her eyes. That spark of light in her smile died when the real world decided to pull her out of Candy Land and smack her in the face. It was almost as if she had stayed in the bucket of water too long, bobbing for apples and people got worried; they snapped her out of it. A person isn’t supposed to be bobbing for apples while trying to make their way in the world. People who did that were sent to shrinks.

Gazing out the kitchen window into the torrent of rain, Tara absently sifted through the freezer for some hot dogs. She let her mind wander unchecked, poking into the secret places of her thoughts. Memories bubbled up and she smiled. Her “imaginary” friend, whom she called Kitty despite his macho attitude, danced around in her head. He used to waltz with her in Mother’s garden, stepping on tulips but then proceeding to bring them to life again. He used to bring her honeycombs from the beehive in the yard and she would kiss the boo-boos on his fingers when he got stung. He used to tell her that they would be together forever. He used to tell her that she was his warrior princess. He used to…

Mother died in a three-car collision right before her thirteenth birthday.

They didn’t play games anymore. He used to sit there on the floor, letting her cry. No more sweet snacks. She didn’t want them. He started to fade and lose color.

Dad got re-married. That dick.

Fake-mom didn’t like Kitty. He was transparent then. Therapy was no fun when Kitty sat in a corner brooding about how he “wasn’t real”. He stopped taking her to fairyland. Tell-me-how-you-feel man made Kitty go away permanently. Shmuck.

She wasn’t a warrior princess anymore.

Tara blinked and the past buried itself away again. She wiped a few escaped tears away and closed the freezer. She wasn’t in the mood for dinner anymore.

With a sigh, she propped her elbows on the counter and rested her head in her hands. The marble was cold on the skin of her arm. She stared out the window, watching the rain slam into the glass. The trees, fences, and houses were obscured and misshapen through the water. Clouds converged together in angry masses that collided with each other, fighting for sky space. One exceptionally dark cloud pushed the others aside. Tara squinted and leaned forward as lightening lit the neighborhood. The sky snarled, shaking the house’s foundations and she could have sworn she saw that cloud take the shape of a growling dog.

WHOA-HO! Long time, no see, eh? Oh, writer's block, thou art a foul beast. I shalt smite thee and thy cruel ways. Not too good for such a long wait but i spent time on it twice throughout that entire silent no-post period. SORRY!

heehee. It get's better, promise. Alex