Sharon Rudnitski

Children's author

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The storm

(Excerpt from the Novel The weather witch: Unpublished)

Wind piled inky clouds, one on top of the other, across the emptiness that stretched before her. A storm was brewing, and Sybil wanted to catch all the action. The girl pulled a wicker stool from near the patio door and parked it at the edge of the porch, well away from her dad’s armchair. Then she settled down to watch. The stool’s weave pressed a pattern into the backs of her bare legs. A soft rain began to tap its tattoo on the tiles over her head.

“Hey, Billy,” boomed her Dad from his side of the porch. He patted his large shirt front, which stuck out over his silver belt buckle.

“What, Dad?” Sybil tore her eyes away from the horizon and focussed them on the rough but kindly face of her parent. Most evenings he could usually be counted upon to keep himself pretty busy, channel surfing in front of the large-screen TV. That was the best investment Dad had ever made. It gave her hours of free time. But she could see tonight was going to be different.

“Bring me another one of those cold beers from that fancy icebox, would ya?” He burped on the fizz of his last one and planted the empty brown bottle at his feet. “It’s been a thirsty day out there on the oil rigs.”

Sighing, Sybil pushed herself up. She didn’t want to miss any part of the electric light show soon to be playing in her neighborhood. But arguing would be a waste of time. "Whatever you say, Dad."

She pulled open the patio door and went into their kitchen. The room held every modern convenience imaginable. Sybil’s favorite was the titanium-coated stainless steel fridge. One whole shelf was devoted to cooling the popular brew her dad liked. Sybil grabbed a bottle and headed back outside.

From the porch she had a great view of the sky, now black as far as she could see... which was pretty darn far. Their backyard sat on the lip of one of the few river valleys that cut deep through the prairie of her Saskatchewan home. A couple of longhorn cows huddled for courage under a scraggly poplar at the valley’s rim. Golden carpets of oilseed danced with each windy gust.

Who needed TV when the whole sky was a screen for nature shows? Maybe that’s why Dad was out here with her tonight. But not likely.

Sybil saw a sheet of silver backlight the clouds against the charcoal sky. Another flash wasn’t far behind. The rumblings after each flash grew closer together. Darkness deepened with every crack. Then a fork of fire burnt a giant pattern through the black. Sybil jumped with the clap that followed. A sharp smell lingered in the aftermath.

She handed the cold beer to her dad and shifted back down onto her seat, determined to miss as little as possible of the storm.

But the promise of a drenching downpour didn't materialize. The music on the roof never moved beyond a few opening beats. As quickly as it had begun, the commotion was over.

“Dang, we’ll be waiting a while longer yet to get those rain barrels filled.” Her Dad twisted off the bottle cap. “We got no more than a quarter inch by the sounds of things. Need a lot more than that to fill out those grain heads.”

Sybil’s attention turned from the waning storm to her burly father. Her blond curls stood out from her forehead, energized by the electricity they’d just picked up.

“Dad, there’s something you need to know.” Her blue eyes held their equal in his for a moment, before she turned away. Sybil wasn’t much for stating what was on her mind. But this time she knew her dad deserved some warning.

The storm may have ended in the valley, but a new disturbance was gathering on the home front.

Write to me at rudnitski@cyberus.ca