It’s been an exciting time for me, and positive things just keep accelerating. This week’s Five Sentence Fiction prompt makes me really miss more dynamic weather. It’s summertime, here, and the air is hot and still. There’s no point to a weather report, since it is very repetitive. The sunlight is nice, recharging the batteries at the peak of summer’s power, but oh, give me the smell of damp ozone rolling off clouds rippling with energy and potential any day. And yet, the prompt this week led me to a place of sterile and recycled air, light years from dancing in the rain.
In all the travels throughout the cosmos, nature seems to use the same shapes, just at different scales. Buzzing through the ion storm flanking the starbirth zone of a nebula reminds me of watching the clouds in a springtime thunderstorm on the prairies of my home planet. Lightning reaches out like delicate spider webs, each filament stretching longingly for connection and destroying anything unlucky enough to get in the way. To me it’s creepy that the strikes of this storm are eerily silent, with no thunder to warn us of the power on display, and no breeze carrying mist that buzzes with energy. The science vessel asking for help clearly discovered this the hard way, and I can only hope that we don’t as well.