centre of the universe - the dreaming: Tempestuous

07/29/2008: "Tempestuous" She woke to the sound of surf crashing against the tall black cliffs beneath the house that was tied to the rock. The roar of waves was deafening; the house shook with every slam of Poseidon's fury. Gasping for steady breath, she wrapped herself in the quilt and ducked up to the window.

Of course she saw nothing but rain and spray lashing against the windowpane. Even when lightning lit up the sky, everything was clouds and rain and howling wind. She remembered her mother had told her to head down under the crawlspace of the house, through the tiny door in the kitchen floor where they kept jars of cream, bricks of butter, and salt fish. The beams were thick there, her mother had said, and even if the house fell to pieces, she'd be okay.

Her room felt too small facing the gale outside, and her feet too slow as she stumbled, dazed, into the hall. Rather, she stumbled into where the hall ought to be. That must have been what woke her; not the smashing waves below, but the crack of sea-sodden timber bowing under this assault. Her hands scrambled over the wall, and the house shook and bucked around her, its walls vibrating with every breaker that shot spray straight up the rock face. She heard herself moan, felt pressure in her bladder, and dropped to her knees to crawl to the kitchen.

Finally she felt the edge of the stove, marveling at how dark it could be. The edge of the cellar door would be four feet to the right, under a rug in front of the fire grate. She scratched and clawed at the floor, her fingers raw with splinters. Her heart raced so fast in her chest it seemed to have jumped up into her throat, and her breath came in panting hitches. Scuttling back and forth across the kitchen floor, she ransacked the room searching for the damned cellar door. Outside the wind pelted rain and seawater against the siding. Lightning flashed and thunder slammed the house; she screamed as the windows shattered and shards of glass showered down all over her.

Without glass in the windows, the wind burst into the house, dancing over the walls and table, tossing pots and pans around like leaves. It ripped curtains from their nails, paper from the walls, and tore open the doors of the cupboards, then rattled them until the plates smashed on the floor. Maeve screamed again and threw one arm up to protect her face as she smacked the floor repeatedly with the other, trying to feel the hollow thud of the cellar door.

"Libeccio" "Today, a rant, and Pardon My Language"

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