Stormtrapper 

By Jacob Dendulk

A breeze gently tickled Stormtrapper’s face and anxiety churned within her. She could tell it was a good one. When you had caught as many storms as she had, one developed a sixth sense for that kind of thing. That slight change in wind direction. That subtle but sharp drop in temperature. Even the feel and smell of the air around her. Stormtrapper knew instinctively the tell tale signs of a perfect storm. 

She gazed seawards and, sure enough, black cumulus clouds formed over the horizon, as if an artist had smudged burnt willow across the sky.

“Nan’a,” a voice next to her whispered. Stormtrapper turned to see the old Lighthouse Keeper standing next to her. He had come out of his lighthouse and now he too peered towards the horizon. His weathered face was creased in a deep frown.  

Nan’a. That was the name her people gave to storms like this. Storms so potent, so severe, that they caused the earth and your very soul to quiver like a petrified cub cowering from it’s predator. 

“You are not going try capturing this one, are you Stormtrapper?” the Lighthouse Keeper asked. 

Stormtrapper hesitated. 

A smaller storm was churning within her now. She had never captured a Nan’a. It was larger and more dangerous than any other storm she had come across. Strong winds inside her told her to flee. Seek shelter inside the lighthouse with the Lighthouse Keeper. Hide away from this gargantuan monster. Yet as Stormtrapper peered out towards the horizon and studied the sky growing darker, these winds were met with an equal and opposite force. A thrill that blasted inside of her- that kept her from fleeing.

People often asked Stormtrapper why she captured storms. Why would she risk her life, her safety, to capture something so dangerous? But wasn’t the answer the same for anyone who collected anything?

The thrill of the hunt. The need to find something rare. That’s what pushed her forward. That’s what blew her into the face of these perilous storms. And this storm. This storm was as elusive and perfect as they came. 

“I have to,” she whispered.

“This one is too dangerous Stormtrapper. Even for you,” the Lighthouse Keeper said. “Another will come along soon; one you can add to your collection.”

“But not one like this.” Stormtrapper said, looking up at the gathering storm with glazed eyes. “It would take pride of place in my collection. Just look at it Lighthouse Keeper. It’s beautiful. So powerful. I have to have it.”

The Lighthouse Keeper studied her hungry eyes with concern. “Your obsession with these storms,” he said, “I’m afraid it’s going to get you hurt Stormtrapper.”

“No it’s not!” Stormtrapper said, turning and looking the old man in the eyes. “I can catch it. I know I can.”

“But is it worth the risk? It’s only a storm Stormtrapper. Another will come along soon.”

“A perfect storm like this? It’s always going to be worth the risk.” Stormtrapper said. 

The Lighthouse Keeper didn’t know what he was talking about. He had never admired storms like she had. Never collected them like she did. In fact, he didn’t collect anything. He didn’t understand the thrill that drove her to capture this rare and elusive storm. 

“I will capture the Nan’a,” Stormtrapper said. 

And with that, she turned and began to make her way towards the edge of the cliff where she would confront the storm.

                                         *

Stormtrapper hated her name. It made it seem like she preyed upon storms; snuck up on them while they weren’t looking and captured them against their will. 

Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Capturing a storm was civilised. It required a mutual agreement to be made. Stormtrapper would offer the storm eternal life (since captured storms do not fade like they do in nature). In return, the storm would agree to be part of her collection. It was a reasonable proposal and it had never failed Stormtrapper yet. 

She stood on the edge of the cliff and peered out to sea.

The thrill that blew inside Stormtrapper had now turned into a raging storm. A Nan’a that raged within her. 

The storm drew nearer. Wind began to blast Stormtrapper, and she struggled to stay upright. Rain sprayed her, blown diagonally by the wind and her breath quickened as the temperature continued to drop.

Lightning cracked. Thunder shook the cliff. Black clouds drew closer and closer. 

Then the Nan’a stopped.

And Stormtrapper spoke. 

“Storm,” she said, straining her voice against the wind. “I offer you an agreement.”

The Nan’a rumbled. 

“I know who you are, Stormtrapper.” The storm spoke, his voice thunderous.

“Then you know what I propose.” 

“I know you offer me imprisonment.”

“I offer you eternal life.” Stormtrapper corrected.

The Nan’a rumbled, black clouds swirling. 

“Such a thing is a prison child.” The storm said. 

And before Stormtrapper could say anything more, the storm continued.

Stormtrapper was engulfed.

Wind blew her off her feet and she was slammed into the soggy grass. Rain plummeted her face so hard it hurt. The sudden icy cold chilled her from the inside out and she struggled to breathe. She tried to shout, but her voice was soundless in the storm.

The lighthouse keeper’s words rang in her mind. Your obsession… it’s going to get you hurt. 

Her words blew even louder. 

A perfect storm like this? It’s always worth the risk. 

Those words no longer seemed like her own.

They seemed like someone else. Someone she no longer knew. 

Had she really thought she could capture a Nan’a? That it was worth risking her life to catch a Nan’a? To what? Display it on a book shelf. The notion seemed utterly ridiculous now as she was beaten around by the storm. Blown here and there, blinded by dark clouds. She thought she was going to die. Surrounded by cold and rain and black. Something unknown blew past and hit her and she fell to the ground in pain. 

There she stayed. 

Curled up on the soggy grass, tears rolling down her face. 

Then everything went black.

                                         * 

When Stormtrapper woke, a shadow was cast over her. The Lighthouse Keeper peered down at her, brows furrowed. 

How long had she been out? How long had it been since the Nan’a had passed? She didn’t care. She sat up, finding the action painful. Everything ached. “I’m sorry Lighthouse Keeper. I…”

The Lighthouse Keeper smiled and put up a hand to silence her. He lent down and helped her up. 

“How about a hot cuppa joe to warm you up?” he said. “And a few biscuits too.”

Stormtrapper nodded and the two walked towards the lighthouse. As they moved, Stormtrapper turned and looked towards the sea. There, another storm brewed on the horizon. 

She stopped.

“You want to catch it Stormtrapper?” the Lighthouse Keeper asked.

Stormtrapper turned. 

“No,” she decided, “I think I will wait another day. For now, let’s have tea.”

And so they drank tea together, listening to the approaching rumble of a storm.