Tent Flap VII
“Forgotten what?” Gordon struggled to squeeze the words into reality.
“Your nature.” The reply roared in his ears with deafening purpose. His mind, his memories were scathed by the simplicity of the world around him. The complexion of all life evolved from a single instant. That conception had a guardian.
“You. You’re–” Gordon fought against the cyclone in his mind.
“I…am…angry.” The screeching ferocity of the primal force peeled Gordon apart, and he awoke with a scream.
Rain pelted into him as the flaps of the tent machine gunned against the torrential winds. Tears mixed with the rain as he realized where and when he was. A dream. All a dream. He rose and glanced at his watch. It had stopped working, just about around the time he first entered the tent. His eyes scanned the horizon but he couldn’t see the sun against the cloud cover. What he did see got him running toward where he had parked his car.
Shadowed cloud walls were cast in steely relief against the sideways lances of lightning. Two funnels cut a swatch across the landscape, and as his car came into sight, hail started to smack into Gordon as he sprinted for shelter.