Fiction On Odyssey: Before The Storm
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Fiction On Odyssey: Before The Storm

An overcast obscured the sky, the first raindrops of the impending storm creating dark splotches in the sand.

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Fiction On Odyssey: Before The Storm
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An overcast obscured the sky, the first raindrops of the impending storm creating dark splotches in the sand. The beach was never busy, but on that day it was deserted; after all, most people didn’t head for the water when they saw rain. But Olivia had insisted on going, even as the clouds set in. And Gram demanded that I go with her. So, I stood beyond the dunes, watching as she walked the shoreline, sometimes wading into the iridescent waves. She leaned down, plucking some unimpressive shell from the ground, and chucked it into the water. I put up the hood of my jacket, but it provided little protection from the rain-- the rain Olivia hadn’t seemed to notice.

Olivia had always been different; I’d always known that. At thirteen, she had yet to develop a disdain for the outdoors like many other girls her age. She often sat cross-legged in the dirt patch we called a yard, covering page after page in intricate floral assortments as she listened to the world. I knew that didn’t explain it, but I also knew better than to focus on it. I walked across the beach, to the water’s edge. Olivia was standing ankle deep in the water, her back to me.

“Aren’t you cold?” I called out.

“Yes,” she replied, giggling. “But I love it!” Her giggling grew into a hysterical laughter, the roaring resonating across the beach. It almost seemed maniacal.

“It’s starting to rain,” I said. “Starting” was an understatement. By then, the rain has soaked through my jeans.

She turned to me, her dead-leaf colored curls flattened against her face. She thrust out her arms, screaming between her laughter. “It’s His gift, Ryan.”

“Whose gift?” I asked.

“God’s,” she replied.

“Since when do you believe in God?” I questioned. She’d denounced Him in fifth grade after Mom drove her car into a pharmacy.

“There are some things in this world too beautiful to be science,” she replied.

I nodded, trying to ignore the comment. “We’re going,” I said, “I’m freezing.”

“Fine, just one more thing,” she said.

With slow steps and clenched teeth, she made her way into the water. When it hit her waist, she launched herself backward, disappearing beneath mucky waves. While she was under, I dipped my hand into the lake; it was frigid. She reappeared almost silently, trudging back to shore, soaked, but still flashing her crooked-toothed smile. “I’m done,” she said, casually. And before I could say a word, she started home; her gait was fast deliberate, and I had to race to keep up with her.

When we arrived, the storm had hit its peak. Gram was shielding herself under the warped rafters, her back pressed against the faded corn-colored siding. She had dingy towels in her arms and a cigarette hanging from her lips.

“Don’t get anything wet,” she said, as Olivia and I walked up the concrete steps. She flicked her cigarette butt into a dying shrub.

Her eyes flickered between us, searching for any potential messes. “And Via!” she said, “Take a shower before you think of sitting anywhere. I don’t want sand is this house.”

Olivia nodded. She grabbed one the towels, quickly drying herself before discarding it on the metal railing. Her hair was still dripping as she walked inside.

I remained outside with Gram, the towel draped over my shoulders. She pulled out her cigarette pack, plucking one before holding them toward me. I accepted silently, lighting and finishing it before Gram had even bothered to light hers.

“Something wrong?” she asked, with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You’ll figure it out,” she reassured me. She glanced back through the screen door. Inside, the shower started, followed by a faint humming. “Did your sister fall in the lake?”

“She jumped in,” I replied.

“Adventurous,” Gram muttered.

“Bizarre,” I muttered.

“Maybe,” Gram laughed, “Just like your Mom when she was young.”

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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