Though the day had been a hot, drowsy one,
the falling of the sun brought a completely different world to life. The empty
streets were periodically lit up by dull orange lamps. A leaf rested on the
cooling pavement, having been still all day but now reanimated by a soft
breeze. The birds were all silent, and no cars drove by.
A slim cloud was forming around the pal,
sickly crescent moon. Slowly but steadily, it grew and morphed into many
different shapes. Then it separated and became two clouds, a birthing and a
spreading of coming change.
The breeze was a spirit, a growing, restless
spirit, trapped by the heavy sun all day but now free to roam. Stronger as it
went, it tore through the leaves of the trees, and they fluttered in terror,
shaking madly. The breeze turned into a wind, howling loudly as it explored the
pavement, then the rooftops, and then the gardens. Every animal knew to remain hidden
and out of sight, having heard the wind’s warnings.
The taste of the air was cool, a strange shift
from day time. The scent of long grass, unformed apples and warm earth mingled
in the wind, a joining of separate things.
A single crow sat on a rooftop, dark form
blending perfectly into the night. One warning caw and then silence, waiting
with unblinking eyes.
A storm was brewing.
