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[Issue 33] Weather - Part 1


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Weather - Part 1

 
 
Prelude
It appeared to be another ordinary day. Raining, of course, what do you expect from England? It had been like this for several hours now and Ryan was fed up of the continuous pattering against his solitary bedroom window. The sound, like horses stampeding, had been monotonously drumming into his skull for what seemed like an age. He sat on the small ledge thinking; just staring into the distance. There was no noise from his room, nor from him, yet there hardly ever was.
 
He was only nine but his mother’s favourite punishment already was to send him to his room without supper. Ryan’s stomach grumbled for what he thought was about the hundredth time. Today's fight had been about whether he had eaten his lunch or not.It was unlikely he would eat until the morning, and that seemed very far away. His room was bare, containing only the essentials his mother thought he needed: a single bed in the corner, with a dent where Ryan had been laying for the last hour; a shabby, old bedside cabinet on which there was a disappointing lamp which was of no more use than a match at night and an ancient copy of the Bible that probably hadn’t been read for five years. Ryan knew that blowing just gently on the Bible would cause a mild asthma attack so he had decided not to touch it. His mother was a devoted Christian although in his eyes she was more like a puritan.
 
Ryan looked just like an ordinary boy, and he was, in all respects bar one. He was blue-eyed with brown hair that was cut short, but still allowed to do its own thing to an extent. He went to school nearby, but was always too quiet to make any proper friends there. He kept himself to himself and that was the way he liked it. His work at school was substandard and his mum always pushed him too hard, but Ryan didn't really care. He hated his mother, and now that he had lost his father, she took complete control over him, making every decision for him, as though he had no mind of his own. That thought only irritated him more.
 
Still the window tapped out its endless tune and with every drop Ryan became more and more frustrated and as Ryan became more and more frustrated the weather just got worse and worse as if it was trying to provoke him. He was at the end of his tether, he wanted to go away, have a different life to the one he had been dealt. He had thought about running away for a long time, waiting for the right moment. The radio was crackling loudly downstairs, it was very tough to find a channel unless you scrolled meticulously for a while. There came a smash followed by a thud. Ryan cut his hands on the broken glass leaving behind some of his blood, but he didn't even notice. He landed next to his Bible on the ground before picking it up and throwing it into the bushes. He turned and glanced back at his house, his prison. He would be happy to get away, even in this weather. He glanced back at the ground, where the small drops of blood were being washed away by the rain; as planned. It would take his mother a few more hours to realise he was gone and by that time he would be over the other side of town and it would be too late. There'd be little trace of where he went and few witnesses as no-one would want to be out in the downpour. He could get away without a problem. And it was all thanks to the rain he had created.
 
Shelter
Shelter 5, 3B6 in Birmingham was brimming with customers all wanting hot meals. It was a bland place, with obviously little money spent on it. The warmth was welcoming to those that entered, but the paintwork certainly wasn't. Plasterwork peeled at the corners, and spots of damp could be seen on the roof. The kitchen was adequate, yet still dirty, however that never deterred the hungry visitors. Today there was a larger queue than usual and the volunteers were struggling to keep up with the demand. However, the customers weren’t here because of the food, most of them could probably afford their own, but they were here because of the TV screen in the corner. Whenever there were rumours of a 'big announcement', many would come to the shelter in order to watch it. The TV was hardly ever on though as the shelter couldn’t afford any extra expenses, but it was one of only a few in this poverty stricken area of Birmingham. That day there had been rumours about a large announcement taking place and no-one wanted to miss it.

 

This wasn't the sort of place you wanted to live. It was tough. Surviving with little money, like many in this area, was hard, and jobs were like gold dust. Along the streets were closed shops, the only ones left open being small commodity shops and cash renting stores. Many didn't know how they were still making a profit, no-one ever paid them back. The shelter was the only place still open, shining the only light on the street, and a dim one at that. It would regularly flicker and from time to time turn off completely. It wasn't great, but it had to do.
 
Ryan, now 15, was a regular and he strolled in the shelter like he had to everyday. After he had run away from home, he had virtually nothing. He lived off what he could find, using shelters and food banks frequently. Luckily, he was quite tall for his age so could pass off as an independent man when he needed to. Social services had never caught up with him, and his mother's feelings had long since gone from his mind. He was similar in appearance to when he was younger, just rougher and more mature. Today, like most days, he had his hood up. The odd thing was it was exceptionally sunny outside, but he kept it up as though he was expecting there to be bad weather by the time he left.
 
The monitor in the corner fuzzed for a while before an image of a smart looking man with a grave look on his face flickered onto the screen. Everyone's eyes immediately became trained upon it, watching with great anticipation. The stern man started: “Today, the world is in panic, as the authorities have called a meeting of urgent global importance. We received this message from a spokesperson:” The screen changed and a man standing outside a tall, official-looking building appeared. Ryan presumed that this was the world head office or some sort of global convention room. “A colossal meteorite is heading for earth. Scientists have predicted that the gravitational force will pull the earth into a position that will quickly make the Earth’s surface uninhabitable for humans. 10,000,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface will be wiped out immediately, but there is a small chance of many other places being hospitable after the meteorite has crashed into Earth. It will strike in a week’s time; our only hope is a missile launch two days before the meteorite is predicted to hit Earth.” The image went fuzzy, then returned to that of the newsreader. “You have been advised to remain calm as the national authorities are pursuing every course of action to ensure the best outcome.”
 
The monitor went black again, the room silent. Ryan stared around the room, at the shocked faces, filled with horrified emotions. No-one knew what to do. Their whole worlds were coming to an end. There would be nothing. All around this was happening. The moment of realisation, panic and fear. Ryan walked outside into the rain with no need to put his hood up. The rain turned to hail and then into a storm. A storm for the end of the world.

Edited by Hexed
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so is Ryan supposed to be able to control the weather?

Weather is the name because of the storm in the story, the weather changes because of the asteroid, and because the phrase "Death/Doom is looming on the horizon" came from the phrase "A Storm is looming on the horizon".

Edited by deadtoyou

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Weather - Part 1

 

 

Prelude

It appeared to be another ordinary day. Raining, of course, what do you expect from England? It had been like this for several hours now and Ryan was fed up of the continuous pattering against his solitary bedroom window. The sound, like horses stampeding, had been monotonously drumming into his skull for what seemed like an age. He sat on the small ledge thinking; just staring into the distance. There was no noise from his room, nor from him, yet there hardly ever was.

 

He was only nine but his mother’s favourite punishment already was to send him to his room without supper. Ryan’s stomach grumbled for what he thought was about the hundredth time. Today's fight had been about whether he had eaten his lunch or not.It was unlikely he would eat until the morning, and that seemed very far away. His room was bare, containing only the essentials his mother thought he needed: a single bed in the corner, with a dent where Ryan had been laying for the last hour; a shabby, old bedside cabinet on which there was a disappointing lamp which was of no more use than a match at night and an ancient copy of the Bible that probably hadn’t been read for five years. Ryan knew that blowing just gently on the Bible would cause a mild asthma attack so he had decided not to touch it. His mother was a devoted Christian although in his eyes she was more like a puritan.

 

Ryan looked just like an ordinary boy, and he was, in all respects bar one. He was blue-eyed with brown hair that was cut short, but still allowed to do its own thing to an extent. He went to school nearby, but was always too quiet to make any proper friends there. He kept himself to himself and that was the way he liked it. His work at school was substandard and his mum always pushed him too hard, but Ryan didn't really care. He hated his mother, and now that he had lost his father, she took complete control over him, making every decision for him, as though he had no mind of his own. That thought only irritated him more.

 

Still the window tapped out its endless tune and with every drop Ryan became more and more frustrated and as Ryan became more and more frustrated the weather just got worse and worse as if it was trying to provoke him. He was at the end of his tether, he wanted to go away, have a different life to the one he had been dealt. He had thought about running away for a long time, waiting for the right moment. The radio was crackling loudly downstairs, it was very tough to find a channel unless you scrolled meticulously for a while. There came a smash followed by a thud. Ryan cut his hands on the broken glass leaving behind some of his blood, but he didn't even notice. He landed next to his Bible on the ground before picking it up and throwing it into the bushes. He turned and glanced back at his house, his prison. He would be happy to get away, even in this weather. He glanced back at the ground, where the small drops of blood were being washed away by the rain; as planned. It would take his mother a few more hours to realise he was gone and by that time he would be over the other side of town and it would be too late. There'd be little trace of where he went and few witnesses as no-one would want to be out in the downpour. He could get away without a problem. And it was all thanks to the rain he had created.

 

Shelter

Shelter 5, 3B6 in Birmingham was brimming with customers all wanting hot meals. It was a bland place, with obviously little money spent on it. The warmth was welcoming to those that entered, but the paintwork certainly wasn't. Plasterwork peeled at the corners, and spots of damp could be seen on the roof. The kitchen was adequate, yet still dirty, however that never deterred the hungry visitors. Today there was a larger queue than usual and the volunteers were struggling to keep up with the demand. However, the customers weren’t here because of the food, most of them could probably afford their own, but they were here because of the TV screen in the corner. Whenever there were rumours of a 'big announcement', many would come to the shelter in order to watch it. The TV was hardly ever on though as the shelter couldn’t afford any extra expenses, but it was one of only a few in this poverty stricken area of Birmingham. That day there had been rumours about a large announcement taking place and no-one wanted to miss it.

 

This wasn't the sort of place you wanted to live. It was tough. Surviving with little money, like many in this area, was hard, and jobs were like gold dust. Along the streets were closed shops, the only ones left open being small commodity shops and cash renting stores. Many didn't know how they were still making a profit, no-one ever paid them back. The shelter was the only place still open, shining the only light on the street, and a dim one at that. It would regularly flicker and from time to time turn off completely. It wasn't great, but it had to do.

 

Ryan, now 15, was a regular and he strolled in the shelter like he had to everyday. After he had run away from home, he had virtually nothing. He lived off what he could find, using shelters and food banks frequently. Luckily, he was quite tall for his age so could pass off as an independent man when he needed to. Social services had never caught up with him, and his mother's feelings had long since gone from his mind. He was similar in appearance to when he was younger, just rougher and more mature. Today, like most days, he had his hood up. The odd thing was it was exceptionally sunny outside, but he kept it up as though he was expecting there to be bad weather by the time he left.

 

The monitor in the corner fuzzed for a while before an image of a smart looking man with a grave look on his face flickered onto the screen. Everyone's eyes immediately became trained upon it, watching with great anticipation. The stern man started: “Today, the world is in panic, as the authorities have called a meeting of urgent global importance. We received this message from a spokesperson:” The screen changed and a man standing outside a tall, official-looking building appeared. Ryan presumed that this was the world head office or some sort of global convention room. “A colossal meteorite is heading for earth. Scientists have predicted that the gravitational force will pull the earth into a position that will quickly make the Earth’s surface uninhabitable for humans. 10,000,000 square miles of the Earth’s surface will be wiped out immediately, but there is a small chance of many other places being hospitable after the meteorite has crashed into Earth. It will strike in a week’s time; our only hope is a missile launch two days before the meteorite is predicted to hit Earth.” The image went fuzzy, then returned to that of the newsreader. “You have been advised to remain calm as the national authorities are pursuing every course of action to ensure the best outcome.”

 

The monitor went black again, the room silent. Ryan stared around the room, at the shocked faces, filled with horrified emotions. No-one knew what to do. Their whole worlds were coming to an end. There would be nothing. All around this was happening. The moment of realisation, panic and fear. Ryan walked outside into the rain with no need to put his hood up. The rain turned to hail and then into a storm. A storm for the end of the world.

 

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