Last Night’s Storm

The storm blew in from the sea like a demented demon; hurling a horizontal wall of water ahead of itself, sending the flimsy seaside shacks flying into the liquid white air, its dark, malignant core following at a slower pace, dragging the sea behind it.

Shrieking round obstacles, or hurling them aside like matchsticks, the wind sweeps across the land.  Frenzied, lashing rain whites out the day, overflows gutters, fills wells, infiltrates every crack and crevice, creating instant lakes inside, as though it were out.

In its wake, the coast is dark; all lights extinguished.  A thin, meandering ribbon of road wends its way through a long, shallow lake, slick and shining like a patent leather raincoat.  The palm trees have been groomed and the cottonwoods completely shorn.

An old man stands watching on three legs … the Matara bus ran into his house …

... silver-blue-green-white oceanic might.

Up on Dagoba headland, I discovered a blowhole; the seas are running high after last night’s storm.  It blew right up at me – spumed way up, wide and frothy.  I stand, braced against my boulder support, as each sonic boom announces the arrival of another flamboyant display of silver-blue-green-white oceanic might.  No ordinary New Years fireworks could hope to compare:  this was bicentennial in its scale.

In their sets of seven, one by one the waves collide against the rocks, hurtle a hillside of foam Dagoba-high, disintegrate into rainbows, recede in mounds of snowy white froth fizzing louder than a truckload of Coke cans opened at once.  And again, and again, they come.  Each wave creating its miracle of individual beauty, and enough power to light a city in each spellbinding, time-lapsed moment.

37 thoughts on “Last Night’s Storm

  1. powerful writing, the fury and force of the storm, the ocean waves, your courage braced against the boulder …. and the idea, the possibility, this power could light a city! spell-binding 🙂

  2. Never mind the meteorological storm – it is your prose that is powerful: the best description of a storm I have ever read. I had to look up Dagoba – according to the first umpteen hits, it’s a French heavy metal band. Then I discovered the one I think you meant: a Buddist shrine. Is that it?

    • You liked it Viv? I don’t know about ‘the best I’ve ever read’, but that you liked it means a lot to me.
      Yea, a bell shaped structure, ending in a tiered finial. They’re usually solid, the new ones painted pristine white (old/ancient made from stone), with brass finishing on the finial (the amount depending on the wealth of the benefactor). The one on Dagoba Hill is quite small, about 30 feet across, and maybe 50 feet from ground to spire top, with just the final bauble in brass, glinting like a beacon whenever there’s a ray of sunshine.

  3. Beautifully written… 🙂 Finally catching up again, but will comment on other/future posts. Thanks for your patience! 🙂

    • Hey, I know what that feels like! That there are people who follow every now and again is tremendous and more than I ever expected. Thank you for your support though, it’s great:)

    • Madhu, I do appreciate your support. You know, I enjoy describing what I see – closing my eyes and remembering and turning those memories into word pictures. It’s fun. Have you started playing Free Rice?

      • But you do it SO well!
        Haven’t started playing Free Rice. I have been awfully busy, with weddings and funerals and life in general! Haven’t even been posting anything meaningful if you hadn’t noticed. When I returned my inbox was bursting with several hundred blog posts to catch up on! A bit overwhelmed at the moment 😦

  4. Mere,

    Your writing is much like the picture you wrote about — powerful and majestic.
    “sending the flimsy seaside shacks flying into the liquid white air, its dark, malignant core following at a slower pace, dragging the sea behind it.” Oh, I just love that.

  5. Whoa, I’m there: an exhilarating post, quite beautiful, and it lifted me up and brought me to the edge of an ocean. And I’ll be honest with you: I needed that ocean today 🙂

    • Ahha! I was soaked within seconds, covered in salt crystals from head to foe, it felt awful as I was walking back ‘home’ but what an excitement it was! Thanks for dropping by sarsm. 🙂

  6. I’ve lived through a hurricane–next to that, this is the closest I’ve come to being in the aftermath of a huge storm. I felt as if I were right there–salt water on my lips, wind pushing me back.

    Thank you for that vision.

    • I’m totally flummoxed Francine, two awards! Let me pick myself up and get myself sorted and I’ll accept with much gratitude. Will link back just as soon as I’ve cleared his inbox:)

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