~Another Interlude~

In which we tell the story of a certain runaway boy.

His name, rather ironically, was Rain. The day he was born was bright and sunny, but his fathers had decided years ago that when  they adopted a child, his name would be Rain and his nursery would be a beautiful shade of blue and his smile would remind you of a rainy day spent inside reading a book. And so they did. And it was. And he could. But although Rain lived up to his name in a thousand tiny ways, he was still a boy born to the sun and the clear sky. Like a flower kept too long in water, he would wilt into himself when too many days passed without sun. His smile would grow dark and his laughter would fade until it felt like harsh, angry suns were growing in his eyes. It was on a summer day such as this, when after weeks of lovely, rainy days, that Rain ran away. He put on a red shirt embroidered with poppies and brushed his hair well, preparing to venture off into a wide and dangerous world. When all was prepared, he set off into the meadows behind his house, on a quest for sun. The meadows were shadowed by clouds and mysterious and magical, as he well knew, and he knew also that if there was any place that he could find sun, that would be it. He ran for what seemed like an eternity, step after eager step, basking in the tickling grass soaked by the looming clouds. And yet, as far as he had traveled, there still seemed to be no respite from the eternally rainy weather. It wasn’t until he was nearly ready to give up and return home that he found the fairies. Their colors were more vibrant and impossible than anything Rain had seen before, deeper emerald and sweeter coral and sharper orange than anything that had ever existed in any world other than a child’s magical fairyland. And although he hadn’t found sun and his smile was still wan and tight, Rain began to dance. And then the skies changed, and the wind was stronger than the clouds, and the biting north wind flew over the world, and the sun came out and warmed the wind, and he laughed and he laughed and he laughed. When he returned home, his fathers embraced him feircely, with a passion that can only be felt by a desperate parent, and he melted into their arms. For now, at least, the world was good once more.

The clouds are sweet today, like so many flavors of cotton candy floating in a sugary sky. They are painted in a thousand different colors, and it is so lovely that it hurts. Ben looks at them and he laughs until he cries because they are so beautiful it hurts. The world is alive, and it is awake. 

In which we meet a new cloud frendy–

This is Ash. They are a cloud. They are an angry cloud. They are crying,
and they are tears of fury, for everything has been taken from them,
and now they shall take everything from the world. They are angry, and
they are lonely, and they shall make everybody else lonely as well.

Ben is floating over the sea, watching the waves tumble and crash. The water is lively today, and it wants to play games with the world. Which would be lovely, of course, but there is a ship sailing across that water, a ship full of people with fuller hearts, and they are so, so afraid. Ben looks at the ship and his heart goes out to the people, but he a cloud, and his job is to storm. The first strike of lightning rips into the boat, falling from a cloud with a heart of ash, and thunder booms, loud and louder, drowning the cries of the people below. A single young man floats across the water, clutching a lonely plank of wood. Ben wants to help, but he cannot, and the man is left alone. Alone, alone, alone. 

I never knew I could become so attached to clouds before. 

you are not alone

~An Interlude~

In which we tell the story of a certain lost young man

He didn’t want to be in that storm, of course. In fact, he didn’t even want to be on that boat. Perhaps that is why he, out of everyone, was spared. His life was already ruined, so what could a storm do? His name was Calden and his parents were wheelwrights. It was a humble profession, but they were the best of them all, and Calden’s family was wealthy. When he came of age, his parents announced that their gift to him was enrollment in a prestigious university, allowing him to move farther in the world than he ever could in their little backwater town. And Calden was grateful, but he also loved that town. He loved knowing each person’s name and face and heart. He loved the little restaurant where he ate so often that the cook knew his order by heart. More than anything else, he loved the wild land that surrounded the town on all sides – a forest to the north, a desert to the south, a beach to the west and a wasteland to the east. He loved how he could walk for hours and never meet another person, but still know that he could always look back and return to the people that he loved. And Calden knew, deep in his heart, that he could never be happy in a university, stuffing his head with dry books full of facts and empty of life. But he loved his parents more than his freedom, so he set sail for the city and his new life with a heart so heavy that it sunk the ship. When the storm shook the little floating world, he was ready to fall, but instead he was able to float. Calden would regain consciousness on a beach far away from any land that he had ever known, a landscape ridden with flotsam and jetsam, the leftovers from all the ocean’s meals. He would lie there for many hours, waiting for the nightmare to end, until he was found by two children. A girl and a boy. Sunny and Rain. His heart would recognize theirs because they were painted in the same aching colors, longing for something that they couldn’t quite reach. When they called him brother, his eyes shown like the stars, and he knew that he was not alone.