LOVE --ULTRAVIOLET----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Impending doom. That’s exactly what Waverly Dae felt the moment she stepped out her front door. The ominous weather was sign enough.
Far above her head, dark clouds were brewing, stirring, as if Mother Nature was some magnificent witch, and the sky was her caldron. She threw in whatever ingredients she fancied, and mixed, heaving the contents across the land, some places getting larger doses than others.
Mother Nature threw down a bolt of lightning, and Waverly understood this to mean go. She took a deep breath, and descended the steps. She paced herself down the cement path to the street.
As she walked, she looked down and saw every little imperfection cracked into the walkway, and the grass that from each side begged to take over. But the pavement yielded not.
She reached the curb and prepared to cross the street, waiting for cars to pause for her, the pedestrian. Rain was cascading. Waverly didn’t mind; this meant no one could see her cry.
After crossing the street, she was about to turn right, the direction of her school, when she made one of her rare impulsive moves, and turned left.
She knew she would have to face school, and the people that attended it, but she wasn’t ready. She had to think.
Waverly passed house after house, all sending a different message, all with a different tone. While she walked, the rain never ceased.
She had always had a fascination with rain, the things it could do. She had always preferred rain to sunshine.
Sunny days reminded her of Barbie Dolls. So fake and phony, pretending the world’s faultless, arising false hopes of perfection. Unobtainable perfection. The thought of a sunny beach brings up visions of children laughing, people tanning, smiles abounding. But just like a Barbie Doll, it’s shallow, like a wading pool. You get intoxicated with joy, dive, and you hit the bottom and crack.
Rainy days are like the ocean; fathomless, mysterious. So many levels, so much depth, the emotions churning truly are in the heart of the beholder.
There are days when Waverly just sits at a window seat and looks out at the crying sky. Warmth surrounds her, and peace enshrouds her, as she sees the little teardrops fall to the ground, to their doom, from the weeping clouds. It relaxes her, bringing with it a sense of immortality. For ages, gloom and destruction have rained down from the heavens, and yet humanity has remained intact, though at some moments by a single thread.
There are other days when a storm is raging, pounding upon the earth. Waverly then dons a cloak of security and protection, being safe inside her home, where the harmful claws of nature are just out of reach, unable to wreak havoc and mayhem, for loss of a victim.
And then there are days like today, where the rain seems empty, emotionless, in a void. As if life has lost it’s meaning. That was how Waverly felt.
Waverly had always been the strong one, the independent one. She felt almost ashamed about how she had allowed herself to get so emotionally involved with a guy and not even realize he had a cheating heart. Even if the guy was her soul mate. She was ashamed that because of that guy, she fell. Hard. And she wasn't sure she had enough strength to pick herself up again. That guy, he drained her. She had never felt drained before.
As Waverly wandered, she found herself at an old rundown park. She sat on one of the swings that wasn’t broken, and halfheartedly swung a little. Somehow the creaking that came with it was almost soothing. It fit, it was in place there, at the dismal park, rain still pouring down.
Most people would run for cover from that metal swing set, the one Waverly was on, the one that was bound to become a lightning rod. Waverly, however, didn't care. The rough swishing of the trees, the brutal beating down of rain, the wind howling through the sky, this was all music to her ears. No, music to her heart.
A big branch fell from a tree by her. It landed with a heavy crunch. This made Waverly feel better, braver. Reassured. She wasn't the only thing broken. She wasn't alone. And as long as she wasn't alone, she could cope. She had to.
She couldn't stay at that old park forever. Sometimes, when there is a sense of impending doom, it truly is impending. Like no matter what path you take, something awful is going to happen and the only way to avoid it is to curl up and hide until it goes away. Unfortunately, sometimes it won’t go away and all you can do is meet it head on, stand your ground, and do everything in your power to keep from getting trampled.
And she wasn't going to let some guy trample her. Not anymore.
Waverly took a compact mirror out of her shoulder bag. In it she saw her dark curly hair was flattened and matted, her clothes were drenched to the point that she would be soggy all day, and her once-perfect eye makeup had run and was smeared all under her eyes, dripping down her cheek. Her blue eyes were iced over, stale, strangers to heat or love. She looked like the poster-child of a depression magazine.
Perfect. Now she looked exactly as she felt.
She took one last glance at the scene around her before getting up, and braced herself for doomsday.
. If I could I'd put a happy face after every critique just to let you know that your work is still ninja cool! And trust me, I don't say that about just anything.