Microfiction: Clouds

This suggestion was made by Elizabeth Davis, a young artist whose cloud photography is magic.

White on blue. Thin gossamer whisps or dense luxurious pillows. Clouds build fantasy landscapes for those that choose to look.

The kids on the creek bank were such adventurers, exiled from the house to the familiar refrain. “Don’t come home till the street lights come on.” There were no lights where they were going but they all knew the drill.

They had eaten their days’ worth of provisions before it had really heated up. They had played their games of chase, swung on the rope swing and skipped stones on the glassy surface of the river until their shoulders creaked with the effort. Now with the midday heat causing the horizon to shimmer, they had retired to the deep pools of shade beneath the trees and were inventing fantastic stories prompted by the scudding clouds.

“It’s a dragon. See the tail.” Andy points.

“It’s always a dragon with you.” One of the older kids replies. He is watching the pile of clouds flatten out until it looks just like an anvil. “Thor’s workshop.” He declares, the others moan. Andy loves dragons, but TJ is the world’s biggest Marvel fan.

Cicadas scream in the stillness and what was once light and fluffy has darkened to grey. What was once blue now looks bruised purple, yellow and shades of green. The sun isn’t down yet but white lightning scribbles across the sky. 

“See I told you it was Thor.” TJ is jubilant and joins the other kids in their frantic race to get home.

Words: 252

Photo by Michael Weidner on Unsplash