June 07, 2004
"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks!"
-King Lear, Act III, Sc. 2
It was about 11:15 last night, and I was lying in bed. It was a dark night, of course, but not a stormy one.
Yet.
I was bravely plugging away at Shadowmancer, and drifting steadily in and out of sleep. In the story, the hero is confronting a demon-possessed man at the top of a cliff over the sea, and a storm is blowing in. Drifting in and out as I was, I almost imagined that I could hear the fierce wind whipping about them in full cry when I happened to look up and lock eyes with Scholl (sitting at his computer).
"Wooow," he says, and I realize that I am actually hearing that much wind.
And that was the beginning of two very lovely stormy nights.
I only got to watch the storm a little bit on that first night because it got here a little late and I needed my sleep. It was a beauty, though . . . Winds gusting violently and spraying those on the porch with a fine mist of rain . . . Blinding, spectacular flashes of lightning followed closesly by the two best kinds of thunder (long, deep rumbling like ten-ton boulders rolling down a far-off hill and sharp cracking like the splintering of a thousand wooden doors) . . .
THIS BLOGPOST HAS BEEN ABORTED BECAUSE JARED TOOK TOO FRIGGIN' LONG TO FINISH WRITING IT (HE STARTED IT LAST TUESDAY).
THE SUBJECT UNDER DISCUSSION HAS NOW ENTERED THE ANNALS OF ANCIENT EAST TEXAS HISTORY.
WE ARE DREADFULLY SORRY.
SORT OF.
Posted by Jared at June 7, 2004 04:15 PM | TrackBack