the storm is already here on our doorstep. No one asked for it or needed to, it just came. A great big cloud of unhappiness that waltzed into the scene of the moment only to be swallowed up by the inhabitants and spread through them with the haste of a viral infection running out of time.
It started pretty innocuous. A little seed was planted in the heat and shadows of the night. The seed was disdain and it settled into my lungs. Its emphysematous tentacles choked all happiness from the terrain of my insides. I was blind-sided. I thought my perfect little world was all one could hope for. All that was needed to disrupt my cosmos was schooling. At certain ages, depending on the customs of your land, you will find parents and guardians send their little demons to scholarly folks who you expect to impart the knowledge of the gods and devils upon them. Only in my instance I was more transfixed upon the social aspects of my newfound environment and studying my fellow inhabitants. I made one friend out of sixty. Pretty bad odds for a kid but I only had one job opening and even the hired help came with her own entourage in the shape of an older sister. MaryAnn was a good kid and believed I was the reason the rains came and the clouds drew near and I loved her for it.
No one else dared select to break my experimentation processes, not even our teachers. The words "queer little girl" were bandied about with the cookies and milk at break time. As much as I was involved in my own personal growth and search for answers they would sit and stare and make their little notes on my behaviors to report back to my family on what a failure they felt I was. This failure of a child took her breaks correcting discrepancies in teachers manuals and logic that rendered itself useless long ago and resumed her analytictations. All the while a tempest brewed inside her as her world rejected her time and again. Never proven wrong, she became quite an object of respite and hatred as she drew the unwanted attention daily as she slept through math and was forced to spend recess in the comfort of the classroom during the hottest periods of the day when other children were outside playing in the warmth of the sun. Our little diseased carrier would only venture out and remain alert on the darkest of days to splash about in muddy puddles or collect bugs and toads and worms to subrogate as her new interests and exact her ministrations on. She grew and the storm within her grew. The disdain for all things improper and all things illogical. Soon she would be too smart for typical education factions and be forced into the servitude of her peers and be allowed to teach them and to correct those surrounding her that had in their power to pummel her in dodgeball or shove her on the playground.
It couldn't last too long, this unstablest of environments, and soon it was to come forth as a big typhoon, her disdain for the unrighteous as she laid hands upon a student several years her senior in defense of a kindergartener. Proper authorities had to be called for such violence was not allowed and the child was rendered unconscious in her wild state and when awoke found herself charged with bodily harm and intent on ill will. The boy in question had sucker punched her in the face leaving a tell tale black eye to which she carried proudly having spared the younger helpless child a lunchless interlude, and he walked with his parents down the long hall with a broken arm and a broken nose. Her parents were furious and she knew right then and there there would be no tender mercies for her good deeds and she would pay a far higher price when she had gotten home. Pay she did and suffered in silence the thrashing and verbal tirade because of the lawsuits that had been laid upon their door. You would think the storm would have blown over and quelled but never. Never would it as it found more fuel in the everyday strife of the little scientist to find logical answers. Her tempest grew into the storm of a lifetime and she became quite a force to be reckoned with having learned to select, carefully, the times she would vent like the winds of war. Our little warrior looks back fondly at how far she has come. I look back at what a storm the fates let loose on the human stain and all the rich fueling resources they gave me to blow my fury at the inane and mundane and ignorant existences that call themselves civilized. I am that tempest and the storm is not over. It has only begun and now, the tempest has begat another tornado of disdain. It has procreated its own beautiful carbon copy. Enjoy!~mobe's love to her all and her all to her loves.
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