A Distant Storm

    It was the low rumble of distant thunder that woke Alcyone. She lay perfectly still between the stiff sheets and light blanket of her bed, eyes wide and heart hammering. When no following rumble happened within thirty seconds or so, nor ay flash of lightning turning the night a lurid negative image in its strobe, she very, very slowly shifted to the edge of the bed, cautious about the shriek of springs or the moan of the ancient iron. Aunt Mirriam might well be on her death bed, but her hearing was still as keen as ever, and Alcyone did not fancy being screamed at for the infraction of being out of bed in the night.

    "Only heathens get out of bed to roam about at unholy hours," Aunt Mirriam had told her, as a smaller and more frightened Alcyone had stood at the foot of her towering bed. "You may be a little hell spawn, but you will behave like a decent being while under my roof."

    That memory kept her movements cautious, until she could put a hand and a foot down on the threadbare carpet, and in one slow and careful roll finish slipping almost silently out of bed and onto the floor. There had not been any more thunder, but she still wanted to see what was happening outside. Feeling exceptionally vulnerable in her thin white nightgown, she crept to the window in near-silence.

    There wasn't much to see beyond the sere and balding yard. The night looked close and too warm and miserable. Ms. Paulette's house sat small and dark across the street, but infinitely inviting. Beyond the overgrown fence, there was even less to see--some scrubby trees, wide fields of peanuts and soybeans. Ah, there. Far to the west, there were the thunderclouds, distance and the thick air dimming the flickers of lightning, the thunder too faint to really hear.

    Storms terrified Alcyone. She stood as still as a statue, waiting. This storm, though, this one felt different. Like it was trying to tell her something, or signal a changing of the tide.

    If it was signaling change, it apparently was not impending in her life. With a troubled sigh, she let the curtain drop and tip-toed back to bed, then slid back under the covers with the same patient care that she had used to get out from under them. Watching the sky through the lace curtain, Alcyone drifted back to sleep.