Why Storms Are Named After People

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My weathered yellow skiff, aged yes, but still sturdy, bobbed and quivered as the waves of teeming thoughts desperately lapped at its sides. A dappled sky of light above me, filled with wandering wisps of all but forgotten memories, just out of reach. I drifted aimlessly in the waters caught in a hazy state somewhere between wake and sleep. I jolted into awareness as my soul suddenly jerked into attention and seemingly begged me to glance over the edge. That’s when I spotted him, it, the impending storm.

He gracefully swirled and unfurled in my near horizon. I reached for my nonexistent paddles but quietly found myself being drawn into him. Before my current of rational emotions could sweep me to their safety, he was upon me, all around me, crackling with the seductive energy of the unknown. His voice pattered across the across the worn wood, lulling me into a state of peace. His fingers, a gentle wind running through untamed locks. The unusual matrimony of a piercing cold and an internal warmth it brought sought to gingerly tug all corners of the fabric of my being. Empty of my own breath, all I wanted was to breathe his air that was so infused in a life I had yet to come to know. Soon, I found myself in the eye of it all, the eye of it, the eye of him. Finally, I was at the center of his attention where I so craved to be. As my guard dropped, I was blindly guided into impending darkness.

This time, his rain was harsh, unforgiving and in a constant  downpour. I snapped then, from my state of bliss, only to see the daunting shadows of fear and worry menacingly circling my steadily flooding skiff. His wind now began to tear away all I was known to be; it lashed at my face, my chest, my hands, taking away all it so desired. The bitter chill now piercing through the fabric of my being, leaving me in ragged shreds and tatters. His smirk, that lightning striking across my vision, shooting into my veins both fear and awe. The very foundation of my soul was rocked by the rumbling thunder. As the sight of a distant light became a skinny sliver on the horizon, he struck my skiff with a final tidal wave of betrayal. It sent me soaring, only to thrust me swiftly into the depths. I no longer had the needed strength to pull myself once more to the surface. I let it consume me. I sank beneath the churning waves, ever so deeper into my mind’s waters. It baptised me then in my own despair; finally accepting my fate I let it take me.

I so now remain, engulfed ever so deeper in the endless depths of darkness. One thought now my constant companion… him, it. The storm that put me under, the storm still brewing above me. Now, I finally understand, he is why we name our most ferocious storms after people.

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