The Storm

[MarloCross]

It was 3 am. The Thunderstorm hovering above Cobalt Hill had begun only minutes before. The steady rumble of thunder followed closely the crackling lightning, telling Marlo that the clouds bringing the waking front were not terribly far off. THe sky was lit with turmoil, a strange mirror to the young boy's own heart. As he listened to the rumble of thunder and felt the very air reverberate with kinetic energy, he was left to ask himself:

Where did I go wrong? How did I lose myself so quickly? I could feel it. I was so close. Then one incident took it all away from me. I let it be taken away from me.

A chain of brilliant lightning struck the ground, then the crackle of thunder. Marlo watched, rain beating down on him. He saw himself in the storm, in the fact that the storm raged on and on in a furious tantrum.

I guess I'm a lot like a storm he though, Uncle Dex always said a storm is nature's way of fixing something. Relieving pressure. It was then, as a crackle of thunder shook his consciousness, that he suddenly understood: If he was to be likened to a storm, then he would only get worse until he could find the source of the irregularity, the very heart of his temper, and quell it's hold over him. Like the lightning and the howling wind, his anger would reach a violent crescendo that could harm those close to him.

If there are any left to be close to. I never blamed them, I just needed them. I needed their help. I just didn't know how to ask

He knew there was something wrong with him. Some deep rooted problem that had swelled the furious squall within his heart. He was a blunt object with nothing to destroy. But, he hoped that if he could find the source of this rage and harness it, maybe he could control the storm.

I gotta go it alone. No one can help me. The only ones who could are dead. I have to do it myself, or lose what few friends I have

The storm was slowly subsiding as Marlo made his way down from the roof of Bryant Hall. He had no smile on his face. It was true, he'd found the path to tread. He had found the road to his own recovery. But the road was not a grassy hill. More like a jagged chasm of pain and heartache. He would have to face his greatest personal agonies and miles of self doubt to repair the damage he'd done.

I am a storm He thought
I will rage on until I can correct the wrong that made me what i am. And, one day, I'll be calm, until another wrong wakes me up again.
This is my fight. Mine Alone