We were the storm chasers, only, we weren't really. We were running from the storm. But they didn't know it. Maybe I was the one running. But I'd never tell you from what.
It's eerie out. A stretch of orange marks the sky and it reminds me of a painting I once saw. It had the same intensity, only I wasn't frightened of it. I watch out the back window of the car. The sky flickers like a light in a cellar. There is no sound though. A silent storm - the thought of it seems so unreal. Sometimes it feels like I have a silent storm raging through me.
Nostalgic music floats through the car, it feels like a movie. The ones where the characters are all so oblivious to their impending doom, but I'm not, I've always seen it coming. I've always been afraid. It's the fear of losing control that gets to me. I guess this runs deeper than nature, but I'd never tell you why.
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