Hurricane of Fire

Submitted into Contest #140 in response to: End your story with total oblivion.... view prompt


Fantasy Sad Romance

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

I want... to forget. The thought repeats itself as I take another swig of hard liquor. It does little to numb my senses; I laugh bitterly. I sit at the far end of a downtrodden bar where not even the blinking neon lights can reach me. I shouldn’t stay in one location much longer; I know what happens when I do. There’s a storm growing inside me, and I can’t control it.

I get up to leave, but just before I reach the door, it happens: my eyes flash with a quick burst of lightning contained within the depths of my pupils. Nobody notices; they’re all too busy screaming in panic as they watch one man plunge his knife into another man’s abdomen at the other side of the bar. I may not be holding the knife, but I’m the guilty one to blame here. Even so, I did my best to make the wound non-lethal. However, this doesn’t satisfy the thunder within.

I step outside and walk down the back alleyways to try and avoid more people. To my (or rather, their) misfortune, I cross two strangers walking down the narrow alley towards each other. I rush behind some boxes and try to gain control, but the tornado is howling inside me. My eyes flash again, and suddenly one of the dark figures pulls out a gun and points it at the second shadow.

“Give me all you’ve got! Right now!” shouts the gunman.

The target shrieks and fumbles for his wallet. The gunman isn’t happy with time-wasting and knocks his victim to the ground with a punch to his temple. He then proceeds to take anything of value and runs away. I sigh in defeat. I already know that I can’t avoid making bad things happen.

I pass one more person before I reach my apartment: an old homeless woman who lives on the corner of my street.

“Hello, May,” I say gently as she reaches out for my hand with a tired smile.

“Hello, dear.”

I look at her directly this time. In a daze, she watches the flashes of electricity deep within the depths of my eyes. She can see the pelting rain, hear the thunder roar; she feels the hurricane. With that, her hand falls from mine as she slumps backwards.

“I’m sorry, May.”

Finally, the tornado dissipates.


Days of calm go by, and I attempt to live on as best I can. I try to avoid people mostly. But even if I were to isolate myself in my apartment, I could inadvertently bring down a neighbouring building if I’m not careful. So instead, I decided to go for a walk to a nearby park.

I like watching people be happy. I enjoy the sound of laughter as people spend time with their friends and family. They look joyful as they enjoy picnics on the grass or run about with their pets under the sun. I’m envious of the bonds they share.

“Watch out!”

I quickly focus and catch the tennis ball flying at me before it hits my face.

“I’m so sorry about that, haha. Looks like I was a little off aim.”

Before me stands a young woman. She wears a sheepish grin as she runs her hand through her short brown hair. She’s athletic and wears clothes to match. Her eyes are hazel green.

“You can’t harm me,” I blurt.

“Sorry? Haha.”

“I mean, no harm done.”

She laughs again, and her voice is like a sweet bell chime. My focus is momentarily distracted by a large border collie who suddenly jumps up at me with excitement for their ball.

“Ah, and this is my beautiful fur-baby: Miya,” she says, as she pats Miya all over in delight. “My name is Eve, short for Evelyn, and yours?”

She looks at me with an expectant smile. I shouldn’t be here. I start to walk backwards as I reply.

“My name is Micah.”

“Well, stay for a while, Micah,” she says as she pulls me by the arm towards the park’s centre.

“Let Miya and I make it up to you by having some fun!”

Before I know it, we’re playing fetch and drinking coffee together. She talks a lot, but I like that. I learned that Evelyn is a recently graduated pastry chef with plans of owning her own bakery. She’s lived in the city with Miya for four years now. She’s also known to be a little clumsy.

In time, the clouds bring an overcast to the sky and the threat of rain. The rumble of thunder starts, and I walk Evelyn towards the train station. But then it happens: lightning strikes behind my eyes just as we are waiting to cross a busy street. Suddenly Miya’s lead snaps, and she dashes out in front of an oncoming car. Evelyn screams.

I rush to Miya’s side and gently pick her up without hesitation. She’s bleeding, and her back leg looks badly broken. But she’s still breathing.

“Let’s take her to the emergency vet,” I announce as I lead us towards my nearby apartment, where I keep my car. Evelyn continues to cry, even as we sit and wait outside the operating theatre.

“I don’t know what I would do without her, Micah. She’s my whole world. I’ve never felt alone these past four years because Miya's been by my side.”

“Your bond is special,” I say, letting her rest her head on my shoulder.

“I feel like my love for her could overfill oceans.”

“It definitely could,” I reply softly as I gently place my hand over hers.


I avoid Evelyn after that. She calls me, but I don’t answer. Weeks pass. I continue to cause misfortune.

Every once in a while, I find myself wandering the halls of a different hospital. I make my way through the Oncology Ward and stand outside patients’ hospital rooms like Death himself. I only take those who are old or terminally ill. However, I’m aware that the more ruin I create, the longer I have between the storms. Perhaps now it would be safe to see Evelyn for a short while?

The following day I call her, and she insists I come over to her apartment. She doesn’t sound mad at my absence; rather, she seems happy to hear from me.

“I can’t leave my place right now. But just come over, okay? I’ll send you my address.” She hangs up before I can protest. I suppose it’s the least I can do.

I arrive, and she greets me with a hug. I can smell her hair; it’s a mix of honey and banana. Her apartment is colourful and filled with light. It feels warm and comfortable. A stark difference from my grey concrete walls and sparse furniture.

“I’m happy you’re here, Micah. I know things got a little heavy last time, but look.” She nods her head towards the lounge room. There sleeps Miya in an overly large and soft dog bed.

“They had to remove one of her back legs, but she’s doing well. She’s still gaining strength to walk on three legs, so I wanted to make sure that I’m here for her.” Evelyn pauses in reflection. “Thank you for saving her, Micah,” she says as she squeezes my hand.

“Don’t thank me, please,” I strain, averting my gaze from hers, “but I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch, and I’ll bring us refreshments?” She walks into the kitchen. It’s only now that I notice how sweet the apartment smells. She must have been baking.

“Here, I want you to try this new raspberry cream profiterole I’ve been trialling.”

I take a bite. It’s sweet and delicate, just like her.

She giggles. “By the look on your face, I’d say the recipe was successful. Only... you missed some.” She leans over and licks a tiny bit of cream off the corner of my lips.

I feel a different type of electricity within me now. I look at Evelyn’s lips and lean over to kiss her properly. The kiss deepens as we grow more passionate. I run my hand over her shoulder and down her back. She takes my hand and leads me to her bedroom. For once, I can feel my heart beating.

Afterwards, as I get dressed, I notice a photo of Evelyn and an older man on her nightstand.

“Oh, that’s my grandaddy. Unfortunately, he passed away yesterday after a long fight with cancer.” Evelyn's voice goes sadly quiet.

I feel a cold shiver run down my spine. “What hospital was your grandfather staying at?” But I already know the answer.

“The one across the river? Why’s that?”

“I... I have to go.”

“Micah, wait...!” She reaches for my hand, but I back away so fast I knock over a lampshade. I feel sick.

“This is never going to work. I made a mistake, Evelyn. I’m sorry. Just forget me.” I turn and all but run out the door.


I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I get in my car and drive north for hours. I abandon my car at the side of the road and hike to the densest, most remote bushland I can find. I unleash the lightning in my eyes and create an uncontrollable inferno around me - a hurricane of fire. It’s raining debris, trees are exploding in flames, and my clothes are melting. Nevertheless, my body does not burn.

One hundred and fifty years, and I still don’t know what I am! Am I a god or a demon? Why can't I age nor die? Why do I only bring death and misfortune? What misery!

It was different at the beginning; over 100 years ago, I felt no remorse. I’ve killed thousands under the guise of wars. I’ve stolen babies’ last breaths from their mothers, created diseases, destroyed entire cities, and for what?! The guilt just continues to crush me.

“I want to forget!”

I close my eyes and concentrate. I hold my fingers to my temples and flash my eyes one more time. I fall to the ground among the wounded animals. I begin to lose consciousness and fade into oblivion. 

April 06, 2022 18:14

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Cath Atkins
20:56 Apr 14, 2022

I love this... Once I began reading, despite several distractions, I had to keep reading! Left me wanting the next chapter x


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15:57 Apr 14, 2022

I was surprised to see that this was your first submission! It was just so good! I was hooked from the second paragraph, and I glided over to the end!


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