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content/post/2020/12/olivia.md
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categories = ["52stories", "fiction", "short story"]
categories = ["writing", "fiction"]
tags = ["52stories", "short story"]
date = "2020-12-13 00:25:00"
layout = "post"
title = "Olivia, The Storm"
aliases = ["blog/2020-12-13-olivia/"]
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Olivia crackled fiercely, enveloped in a maelstrom of energy that was as green as her eyes. It rose around her and whipped up the once calm air. Mimicking this rise, she took off. Incongruously slowly, her feet rose several metres from the sodden earth as her eyes flashed fierce with ethereal power. The unshackled force spilled out across the sky like a supercharged aurora, dancing as if it were alive and gleeful at being let free.
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"Olivia..." the woman spoke and trailed off, her voice fading away into the wind which suddenly sprang up once more, reaching out toward her and almost brushing her with outstretched fingertips before the world began to shatter around them both. White nothing persecuted and invaded the carefully constructed mental torture chamber as it sharded into smaller and smaller pieces. The last piece to shatter was the face of the other woman, outliving even Olivia felt the twisted expression of the other sear itself into her mind alongside the feeling of being stabbed which was the typical way for these things to end.
In a disturbing echo of the dream, "Olivia?" was the first word Olivia heard as she crashed back to reality, accompanied by the sickening feeling of falling. Her fall was mercifully broken by the creaky softness of her familiar bed. A reassuringly familiar figure, though her brain hadn't woken enough to place their face yet, stood in the doorway with a decidedly quizzical expression. Wait...fall? As she came back to her senses she noticed a pervading damp that quickly spread fingers of cold into her bones. It was as if her bedroom had been torn through by a storm, though the window beside her remained firmly shut and the air outside steadfastly dark and deathly still. Strangely like the storm had come from within.
In a disturbing echo of the dream, "Olivia?" was the first word Olivia heard as she crashed back to reality, accompanied by the sickening feeling of falling. Her fall was mercifully broken by the creaky softness of her familiar bed. A reassuringly familiar figure, though her brain hadn't woken enough to place their face yet, stood in the doorway with a decidedly quizzical expression. Wait...fall? As she came back to her senses she noticed a pervading damp that quickly spread fingers of cold into her bones. It was as if her bedroom had been torn through by a storm, though the window beside her remained firmly shut and the air outside steadfastly dark and deathly still. Strangely like the storm had come from within.