The Storm

Yes. He did it. He’s almost there now. I see as he splashes the water around with his muscular arms. The tips of his fingers were tinted icy blue, and his battered clothes stuck to his skin like a glove. Just a few more meters left. I smiled tenderly as I saw my child making his way to freedom.

This story goes a long way back in time, back when sailors were my children. No one cares about Mother Earth anymore. The once vibrant forests are now robbed of their green robes. Wars have created open wounds and ugly scars with a mystery of when they will heal. The once azure oceans are now choked with a nauseating tinge of brown. My children had long forgotten me. The world is a cruel place, and I grew up to learn that not everything is unicorns and rainbows, as it used to be. Modernity has reformed genuine smiles into forced grins, flowers into swords and innocent faces into bloody ones.

The person I see is Stanislav Vasilyevich Kurilov, with a lean figure and ocean blue eyes. He was once your average oceanographer, just with the dream of travelling across the seven seas. He dreamed of accomplishing this since he was at a young age. However, a few years later, he had to learn swimming in secret because he was strictly forbidden to feel the refreshing velvety blanket against the palm of his hand by his parents, for they feared his freedom. The poor lad vividly remembers the image of his family doctor telling him about his vision problems, further breaking the next rung in his ladder of career. He never lost hope, though. The courageous young man managed to fix that rung and climbed further, joining the Institute of Oceanology. But his troubles did not end yet. Stanislav almost gave up and believed that maybe he wasn’t meant to achieve his dreams. He wanted to start a new life. Soviet Union’s boundaries forbid him from even thinking about what he loved, the endless glimmering waves of aqua paradise. He came to resent the Soviet State, even more, when he was refused a passport so that he wouldn’t go on an underwater project with his friends.

However, as they say, “When one door closes, another one opens.” Stanislav soon noticed a ray of light in his world of black. A cruise liner was set beautifully on the shore near his abode as if it were waiting for him. The words “Cruise From The Winter Into The Summer” were engraved neatly on the golden wood, giving a hint of a dim white glow. Stanislav gazed at it through his dusty window until he knew what he had to do. He wasn’t a cartographer, but he rushed forward to study his map-filled wall, letting every bit of information sink in. His finger lingered over the Philippine Sea. He decided to jump off the coast of Siargao Island, the nearest island he could land on. Little did he know destiny had one last surprise for him.

Stanislav boldly boarded the deck, without any passport, without any identity. After a few minutes, my waves gently pushed the ship away from the harbour, calmly drenching the hot sand, forging their own sea-song as they did so. Not a hint of clouds was to be seen in the brilliant blue sky, with brushstrokes of golden and amber. The morning mists rose with summer laziness bringing along the tangy scent of salt with them. Unfortunately, beautiful moments come to an end, signalling the start of danger, and this one did too.

The day was turning into night, maybe too soon. My waves were gently caressing the ship, guiding it safely to the coasts of Siargao Island. I provided them with a helpful tailwind, from where they started to where they are now. Stanislav’s eyes detected the land and grabbed this excellent opportunity to jump unnoticed into the depths of the waters. The chains of captivity finally detached from him. Daylight sank deeper and deeper into the darkness. One by one, the stars winked out of sight in the moonless night. Bulky storm clouds slid in and clapped their giant hands as if they were giving a sarcastic applause. They stared down at him, stonily, coldly. Thunder started and rumbled so loudly the sky seemed to split. Stanislav was alarmed at the sudden dip in temperature, but he still moved on. The sky spat big fat droplets of murky water on him. Stanislav looked behind and saw the crew screaming and shouting. But Stanislav wasn’t going to wait and see that. He swam, faster than he ever did. The vigorous currents tugged him backwards, but he didn’t give up. I couldn’t witness this tragedy. I used all my powers to bring the rage down. But I couldn’t keep up. I slowly lost strength. No. I couldn’t be seeing my child die like this. I released the last ounce of energy from me. Eventually, the storm died down, giving time for Stanislav to sink in the events of last night. I smiled down weakly at him. At least he is safe in the calm turquoise sea of the Philippines.  

My waves meekly escorted him towards the shore. Yes. He did it. He’s almost there now. I see as he splashes the water around with his muscular arms. The tips of his fingers were tinted icy blue, and his battered clothes stuck to his skin like a glove. Just a few more meters left. I smiled tenderly as I saw my child making his way to freedom. A warm burst of pride flooded through my fatigued frame. Stanislav’s face was painted with an exhausting but proud expression.

However, evil flashed through my eyes. All I could see was red. I rapidly flew down to Earth, although I wasn’t allowed to. Oh well, rules were made to be broken. I cannot explain the satisfaction of seeing someone being tortured slowly. I used the power of my waves to grab Stanislav roughly by his neck. I smirk as I see his face turn pale at the sight of me. I twisted my finger around. The waters obeyed my command. His eyes widened as he witnessed a black hole opening up beneath him. The angry tides spun around and around in a vortex. It wasn’t long before they would engulf and swallow him with their menacing jaws. He shut his eyes tightly as everything went black…


Remember when I said how modernity had changed the Earth forever? Well, I was a victim too, and you are the reason for it. I am The Storm.



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