Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: WEATHER (07/19/18)
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TITLE: Coming For You | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
07/26/18 -
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I unleashed a fiery blast and hurled my deep-throated rumbles at the retreating sovereign of the skies above. The scorching heat below tensed as I scattered the first chilling darts toward the parched earth.
With charcoal strokes, I sent tumbleweeds of sky warriors to obliterate the blue shield which had so long hovered over the one who still knelt howling like my winds. The first barren limbs woke as the thirst for life returned unbidden - compelled by an icon of dust daring to dart into the very throne room of the Sky-Master.
I shook off the shackles of emptiness and drank my fill from the seas in a moment. The first brief cascade of diagonal sheets alerted the feathery scouts who flitted their welcome through my stillness. I pulled harder on the seas to release their treasured reserves.
The mountain offered up the smouldering remains of the shattered altar where the figure had dared to unlock the source of power through his words. The quaking king trembled as his entourage lay void of life around him.
Another bolt cracked the raging roil of cloudy warriors charging toward the desecration in need of cleansing. The roaring of a thousand seas crashing against the age-old granite bellowed up from within my breast and I unleashed it toward the one who calmly rose to his feet.
The leafless trees began to bend and moan as I unleashed my fury and tore their feeble limbs like paper. With ease, I lifted debris and hurled it across the landscape, defying the puny worshipper to face the fury of my wrath.
He turned and ran down the slopes of Carmel.
I sucked more of the seas into my wake and channelled it unceasingly toward the mountaintop where rivers of red yielded to the barrage of my showers. Waterfalls began to roil down the rocky sides pursuing the sprinting figure as he raced my winds.
Torrents flowed without effort as the hostility of pent-up rage unfolded onto the land below. I increased the speed and intensity of the droplets so that they pierced like sharp needles from above. Still, he raced on, refusing to face the consequences of his own prayers.
A man. How could such a figure, shaped from dust in the image of the Master, wield such power over me?
With clap after clap, like cymbals crashing above his head, I urged the waters to fill up my cloudy vessels and pour down bountifully on all the land – land that had known no waters for three and a half years.
The darkest gates of the underworld could not hold back the reservoirs I sent to engulf all that dared to resist my floods. Terror stole the heart of the royal figure toiling in his chariot as the man on foot outraced him. I sounded off near him and he covered his ears screaming at his mounts to go faster.
Only the reigns of the Creator held me back from washing him away with the rest of the dead who I claimed in my river and deposited far from the sacred mount. Cleansing demanded power.
The voice of my whispering winds rushed into his ears as I mocked him with the reality that I was coming for him. I was strong, I was powerful, I was free to wreak my will on the whimpering life forms below.
And yet – the task was done. The shackle on my storm surge was strong and held me back like a stallion under the control of his rider. Horizon to horizon, over this barren wilderness I rested and channelled the life-giving waters of the sea onto dusty furrows where nothing had grown for many harvests.
Even a storm rises and falls at its Master’s hands – rising to accomplish exactly what he desires and resting when the task is done.
As my gift of life drizzled down onto the city the little ones danced with joy. I poured out puddles near their feet and they jumped right in to welcome all I offered. I filled the pots of smiling women. I rushed into the holding tanks opened by the men. My master had spoken and his will must always be done.
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