The Hollow

Storm

Back in his room Nom sat blankly, his hand pulling down his head, staring at specters from his past. Is my place here? Who needs me in Elocant? What do I need from here? His eyes wandered over to his go-bag sitting in the corner. Was this ever truly my home?

He banged his scalp twice with his palm, stood up and went to his basin. He gazed into the dingy mirror on the wall, bent, splashed water over his head, and soaped up his scalp. He picked up his razor and stropped it, then proceeded to shave his scalp. His tensions eased through the familiar and meditative motions. He rinsed and looked in the mirror again, his memories assuaged.

Nom grabbed his walking stick, then paused with his hand on his cloak. He blithely left the garment behind on the way out of his room, and quickly sneaked out the back door to the alley before Casey could flash him any disapproving looks. He circled out front where the air smelled clean and fresh. Bumble bees littered the air, and he breathed in deep the scent of flowers floating around on the slow breeze. He set off toward the well, then slowed to a stop, his slight smile straightening to a thin line. He tapped his stick twice and wobbled the top in a circle for a minute, then spun around and walked the opposite direction, all the way to the edge of town.

He sat cross-legged and looked out over the vast resting fields of long grass. He could clearly see the long curve out to the horizon where healthy corn and wheat sadly gave way to twisted crops and unfettered weeds. He swung his head and swatted at some mosquitos taking advantage of the slow air. His gaze settled on a gray and black stormfront menacing the horizon. The rain would be good for what few crops remained, and he always enjoyed the refreshing change of the weather. As the cicadas and grasshoppers droned, he watched the storm roll in for a while, an occasional flash lighting it up underneath. The mosquitos kept biting, so he stood up and wandered to a nearby grove as the sky slowly darkened. After a time poking about the trees and miscolored fruit, he looked back to see how much time he had before the rain hit. He was startled to see the storm almost upon the town. He wiped streams of sweat from his face and cursed the rising din of the insects and swarming mosquitoes.

This is wrong, he thought with dread. The insects should have fled an hour ago. The air should be cooler by now, and a wind should have preceded a storm this fast. A flash of lightning blinded him. His vision slowly cleared, and his blood ran cold when no thunder followed. Even the insects were suddenly quiet. All he could hear was sounds of activity from the townsfolk carrying clearly through the humid air. He started moving, and broke into a run when he heard the growing drum of raindrops over the fields.

He rounded a corner onto the main avenue into town. Folks were battening up their windows for the storm. Others hurried with carts and containers to avoid the rain. Various folk stood on the street discussing the weather and pointing at the storm.

"Get inside, now!" shouted Nom as he ran towards the center of town. Some were startled and heeded his advice, others watched him race by, shaking their heads in disapproval. The rain was overtaking him, starting to drop on his shoulders by the time he passed Lotham's. He spotted the very man down the cross avenue, standing outside the warehouse door. Nom kept running, then stopped and reversed back down the avenue.

"Lotham, get inside, seal the doors!"

"Go on!" dismissed Lotham. "I need to air out the place. There's barely any wind!" the man shouted back, crossing his arms.

Nom stopped a few paces away, panting "This is no ordinary storm, Lotham. Listen to the thunder."

"What thunder?"

"Think about it," Nom replied, then started back to the main street. After another flash of lighting he looked back and saw Lotham staring at him, then slowly uncrossing his arms as no thunder came. Satisfied, Nom ran on.