Romans & histoires The Delicate Sound Of Thunder

Just one foot through and I heard a voice that sounded like a thunderstorm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Thunder cracked above, but it wasn’t natural thunder it was rhythmic, steady… like a chant. The Hollow had returned. But twisted.

“Of?” “Songs that sound like you,” he said with an ease that made her heart shift. “Oh really?” she teased. “And what exactly do I sound like?” “Peace,” he answered, without missing a beat. “And sometimes thunderstorms. The kind that wake you… but still make you want to stay under the covers.” She let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head as she stepped aside. The apartment was quiet. Rain tapping gently against the window. The scent of vanilla mixing with the petrichor of fresh air.

Soon he is fast asleep, and very far away from his former dreary and hopeless life. Sometime later his eyes flutter open, after a loud boom of thunder reverberates through the house. He hears rain hitting a roof. But it different, as it's not the metallic sound of rain pelting down on his own shitty trailer he normally hears, but instead a softer, more muffled sound.

The ominous rumble of thunder continued its relentless rhythm, and suddenly, the lights in my home flickered erratically, heightening my sense of unease. Frozen in a corner, trembling from fear and the storm's chill, I said, "It's just a little thunder." Sinking onto my bed, I clutched one of my many soft pillows. This was my first time living alone and experiencing an American storm. I burrowed deeper into my comforter, listening to the eerie creaks of the house as the howling winds battered against it from outside. As the storm gradually waned, I leaned back against the headboard, concern gnawing at me as the thunder continuously boomed.

Still dripping, I climbed to my feet and staggered through the curtain out onto the balcony, letting the driving rain cool me down a little, wash away the sticky evidence of my self-fulfilment. The spray felt good on my superheated skin, and I arched my body to meet it, tilting my head back and closing my eyes and opening my mouth. It was a full-fledged rainstorm now, lightning streaking the blackened sky, thunder booming. But even in the midst of the loud noise of thunder and rain, I could make the distinct sound a very male, very dark, baritone voice chuckling.

I heard somewhere a frightening thunder sweeping the earth, almost as if the sky was breaking in half or the earth was opening. All the lights went out and for a moment all the noise of the world seemed to shut up, there were only our breaths and our karst beats unbridled.

A thunder sound echoed through the house, rattling the chandelier and window panes. I let out a loud shriek, jumping off the counter, my arms wrapping around his waist as I held him tight. He didn’t move, didn’t shove me aside, his arms slowly snaked around my frame as he pulled me to his chest, “Hey, it was just a thunder,” he whispered, his voice dripping with concern. I shook my head, thunder doesn’t just strike, they come with… I didn’t even complete my thoughts when the lights went out, and we were cloaked in darkness.

The rain whispered against the tall windows, soft and rhythmic like a lullaby. Each drop landed with a delicate pattern, like fingertips drumming against glass, weaving a quiet melody that filled the silence between heartbeats. A distant roll of thunder stretched across the sky, low and rumbling, like the pulse of something ancient stirring in the dark, slow and inevitable. Inside the room, time didn’t move the way it used to. It slowed. It stretched.

The Goddess had woken a stormcaller in her. Now the world was handing her a storm. “Not yet,” she muttered, half to herself, half to the unseen currents. “Not here, not—” A low rumble rolled across the valley. Not thunder. A different sound. A deep, distant *crack*, like giant ice sheets snapping. She froze. The sound came again, louder. Higher on the western slopes, a line of white lurched. For a heartbeat, it hung, like a wave cresting. Then it broke.