Bones

The sky is an ocean of black, looming, nimbus clouds. I’m returning home from working in the fields. A rumbling thunder shakes the earth beneath me. It isn’t an earthquake. This region experiences constant tremors due to unstable ground. I’m worried heavy rain could saturate the ground and cause a collapse. Then, the whole state will cease to exist. This desolate region of the kingdom will face oblivion.

For centuries, the skies have rumbled, and still they do. Not a single drop of rain falls. Fifteen years of my life have been marked by a strange combination of intense summer droughts, barren land, failed harvests, and the looming promise of devastating storms.

Absolutely nothing.

We never get rain.

Like a giant, pulsing vein, lightning flashes across the sky, branching out until it finds the path of least resistance, striking the ground a few kilometers distant. The earth shakes violently, sending me running home in a desperate prayer for safe arrival.

My small house sits at the foot of the hill. Although my parents built this house sturdily to shield us from lightning, it’s clear that no one is immune.

Another flash illuminates the sky, a horizontal streak of light vanishing beyond the distant mountains. I wish I could snatch the lightning from the sky. I time the interval between the lightning and thunder. And then I scan my surroundings for a safer path as I run.

Dry grass is all around me. I am the tallest object in the area. I run a few more meters, crouching down before I slip into the forest’s cover.

Another flash of lightning, another clap of thunder, another tremor—I lean against a tree trunk, gasping for breath. I’ll be home soon.

The rain stays away completely. I have never seen it. I’ve read nearly every relevant book at the public library. I understand its nature and origin. I know what it looks like. I’ve encountered its beauty and destructive power in poetry. I know all the words about how it smells and what it feels like on the skin. Still, describing it is impossible, since I lack any firsthand experience with it.

This planet’s water is concentrated entirely within the atmosphere, as if the Gods have been hoarding it. A constant black sea of saturated clouds for a sky, filled with charge, ready to strike.

The water cycle was disrupted long ago, separating land and water. The sky has water, and there is dry land below.

Over the past five years, the increased frequency of lightning storms has caused a boom in plant growth near our house. Seven years ago, when my brother Joshua was born, this small forest didn’t exist.

No water is present; not a single drop from oceans, lakes, or rivers.

Humanity’s, and the flora and fauna’s, evolution following a mutation has enabled survival in our environmentally altered world. We don’t need water to survive, and we have devised methods for hygiene that require no water.

Lightning provides nitrogen to the soil, which helps plants grow faster. Plants ceased photosynthesis; sunlight’s absent. I learned from books that leaves used to be green due to the presence of chlorophyll. That would have been quite a world. Our plants’ leaves are blue.

With each roll of thunder, the ground trembles beneath my bare feet as I make my way through the trees to my brother, threatening my balance.

Emerging from the forest, I see my house far away. It’s a stone building with a ceramic roof. My parents’ attempts to install lightning rods on the roof, in the backyard, and beyond, proved unsuccessful. If they worked, my parents would be alive today.

The house is enveloped by nothingness. Short blue grass lies beneath. There are a couple of trees in the backyard. A black void stretched above. The house is relentlessly exposed to unchanging weather conditions for miles around.

Taking a deep breath, I run from the forest to the door. The static electricity makes me instinctively crouch and I pray to avoid a lightning strike.

Lightning flashes near and far as I continue my run.

I burst through the door, gasping for breath.

“I have come to rescue you from the dragon, milady,” I say to Joshua the minute I can speak again.

Joshua bursts out laughing and rushes to embrace me.

“Oh, thank you, my prince charming,” he purrs, clinging to me, his arms around my neck.

I get a brief moment of relief, but it doesn’t last.

Silence reigns over the house after lightning strikes a tree in the backyard; a few seconds feel like an eternity. And then the ground shakes with the thunder in a nightmarish harmony and I expect it to shatter any minute now. It is a matter of days, hours maybe, until the earth collapses and there is nothing left but a lingering scent of who we used to be.

We listen carefully to anything that might go wrong. Things will go wrong.

I listen to the crackling of wood as the tree ignites, and instantly, I hurry to the porch. I hold Joshua close, his limbs wrapped around me.

“Stay inside,” I murmur, helping Joshua to his feet.

The burning tree in the backyard illuminates the whole scene. Grabbing the fire extinguisher, I race toward the blaze, but the intense heat stops me in my tracks. My gaze is fixed on the fire, yearning for a rain that will never fall. I wish for a garden hose, for a fire brigade, for all the things I’ve read about in books.

I stand still, Joshua yelling something from behind me, but I cannot hear it. Watching the rapidly spreading fire, a single thought consumes me: It was a pleasure to burn.*

It is a pleasure indeed. There is something satisfying about watching something burn to the ground and pretending that you’re watching your emotions burn and turn to ash.

The fire extinguisher feels heavy in my hands, compelling me to use it. It extinguishes the fire successfully. The tree is reduced to a blackened trunk, a symbol of nature’s overwhelming power and our insignificance in the face of it.

Yes, I put out the fire, but I couldn’t control it. I just about managed it. If I had the power to manipulate nature, I would have diverted the lightning bolt to strike the hill. If I could control nature, I would make it rain. Even if the entire kingdom falls as a result. At the very least, survivors could begin again.

I look up into the dark sky. It flashes and roars with fury and wrath. The ground gives way beneath me, so I bounce.

Static crackles in the air, a palpable tension, and I instinctively take my lightning-safe position, despite wanting nothing more than to feel the searing heat and electrifying power of the lightning.

I do not see the lightning with my eyes closed, but I hear the growling of the skies and the earth, and I move on towards safety.

Within seconds, a vein of light appears before me and lands on another tree in the backyard.

Josha yells something, but the thunder drowns him out.

Fire engulfs the second tree, leaving me completely frozen.

A cold grips me, but my blood runs hot. The sweat dripping from my temple burns as it evaporates. Though drained, I feel a strange, exhilarating force amidst this turbulent instance of intense energy. I don’t know what it is or where it came from. All I know is it makes my blood boil.

Flames continue to blaze as the sky flickers and darkens repeatedly. Fire engulfs the house, and I yell at Joshua to escape.

The house burns down, the entire property is on fire, just as my brother comes back to me.

My face is flushed; I think it’s the heat. For a moment, I feel as though I am burning up from the inside.

“Maria,” Joshua cries out. He’s asking what we’ll do now, but I’m choosing to ignore him.

I yell “Stay away!”, but the thunder drowns out my voice.

I’m clueless, but I have an overwhelming desire to feel the heat.

The fire within, not the external flames, is what’s making my cheeks red, I’m sure. With outstretched arms, I walk away from Joshua.

Strike me. I feel like screaming at the heavens.

Hit me.

Nothing happens for a long minute. Then suddenly, the world around us shakes.

Fire always fascinated me. I always wanted to light a match and feel the heat in the air. I couldn’t play with fire, though. Numerous lightning-caused fires have made it illegal for us to build our own. The source of my fascination is a mystery, but it’s been with me since I was little.

I always wished I could touch the lightning as it flashed across the sky. I can almost feel it, playing with it until my hand is raw.

The saying that lightning never strikes twice is clearly false, as nature doesn’t follow such rules. This is precisely how we lost our parents three years ago. A lightning bolt hit my father, causing him to collapse. My mom instructed me to look after Joshua and galloped to his assistance. While she checked his pulse and administered standard post-lightning-strike care, another bolt hit. It landed next to my mom. Her metal bracelet attracted the electricity, giving her a shock that sent her to the ground. Next to my father. Keeping Joshua from running towards them and into the open consumed all my attention, leaving me with no time to make sense of what happened.

The next morning, after the static electricity faded, and the lightning became less frequent, we buried them.

Blinded by another flash of light, I feel the earth shake. It’s hard to convince Joshua that there’s no link between the weather and earthquakes. After all, he sees the lightning, hears the thunder, feels the shaking. And they come and go together, like a disastrous symphony.

Lightning exposes the bones of our parents, striking their graves in the backyard. Joshua screams in terror. I feel powerless in the face of the burning building and the crumbling earth. From above, I hear a voice calling my name. It is the sky, the lightning. The Gods.

I walk with open arms toward the middle of the yard.

“Hit me!” I shout as Joshua weeps behind me.

A palpable hum of static fills the atmosphere. A dreadful moment of deadly silence descends as the hairs on my skin prickle.

My hair is raised and separated by the electrical charge in the air. A negative charge accumulates in the sky above, and a positive charge builds up in the ground beneath. I’m caught in a dynamic, highly charged static field, with energy flowing in all directions.

The flashing lights above seem to pulse with the same energy that flows through my veins.

I have never seen so much light; the surrounding fire and the flashes are incredibly bright. Despite the reddish tint, I feel like I’m finally seeing the world as it truly is.

Joshua’s heels are touching as he crouches low, his weight balanced on his toes. With his head down and hands over his ears, he’s shielding himself. This comes naturally to him.

My hair stands on end, and I feel a tingling electric current all around and within me. I raise my hands.

This heat is unbearable; it’s searing my skin and bones. I’m filled with furious energy.

It hits me suddenly. Intense pain and scorching heat. A jolt travels from my arms, down my spine, through my organs and legs, until it discharges into the earth. I’m electrically overloaded and I expect to pass out before I even realize it. Yet, I’m still upright. The lightning has stopped, but the excruciating pain lingers.

The sky growls above me, and I convulse in agony. Am I dead? Have I ever felt more alive?

“Maria, your arms,” Joshua’s voice cuts through my pain as I register my aching hands. They are in flames. I’m on fire.

No, I am fire.

The fire sears my hands, and for a moment, I glimpse beneath my skin, my bones and fiery red veins entwined. Veins filled with scalding blood. Veins that transport flames. As I cup my face, I can feel my cheeks getting warm.

My hands are on fire, but I no longer feel pain.

I’m alive. I’m energized by the flames and feel a powerful urge to redirect them.

Joshua maintains a safe distance, not understanding what is happening to me. I do not understand what is happening to me. I’m disoriented, but I sense the lightning retreating, pulling away.

With a fast flick of my wrist, I send the flames toward the forest trees, and they catch fire.

I can control it, I think. I’m able to manipulate fire.

I experiment with several methods to pull the fire away from our home. Unfortunately, it’s too late. The house has burned to ashes. I manage to save the forest just in time.

I’ve gained the ability to manipulate fire, but we are without a home. I have a fleeting delusion of controlling nature, but the reality soon sets in. I possess the ability to control fire. This accounts for my fascination with fire.

I’m at a loss as to what to do with this power.

Joshua and I stare into each other’s eyes. “We’ll get through this together,” I tell him, adding silently to myself, “We have to.”

Watching the fire sink into my hands, I question whether I’m dreaming. My gaze shifts to the ruins, then to the black ocean looming above. I see lightning in the distance, but I can’t hear any thunder anymore. The earth falters a little, but I expect it to hold for the time being.

I approach Joshua, my arms relaxed at my sides, pulsing warmth in time with my heart. “Let’s take shelter in the woods,” I suggest. “It’s safer than being caught in a lightning storm overnight.”

A hesitant look crosses Joshua’s face as he wonders if he could trust me to hold him. He’s probably wondering if my recently burning hands are safe to touch. I don’t blame him. I don’t trust myself either.

A burning persists in my bones.

“I don’t know how I did that,” I say. “However, I promise to figure it out soon and learn how to manage it.”

Joshua keeps his distance as we walk into the forest. Is he afraid of me?

I briefly look at what is left of our home, and then at my own hands. The amount that can occur in such a brief period, in a seemingly static world, is astonishing.

The distant lightning is moving farther away. It will return, though. We’ll be ready for it then.

* Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451