Dark, Windy, Stormy Day (CWJ #2)

It was a dark, windy, and stormy day. The "breeze" is bending the old fence far beyond what the support should allow. Yet there was one brave soul who is out in this foul weather. He was on a mission, a mission of extreme importance. Using his body to shield the box behind his back, he forges on as his wet hair flaps in the moving air.

The wind slows for a moment, the young man sprints to the cover of a nearby tree. He whips his package to the front of himself and nearer the trunk of the tree to protect it from the rain. Gulping down the still air, he catches his breath. The breeze picks up again and he waits for this blast to pass.

Once it slows again, he darts onto the slippery sidewalk. The gutters have swollen from trickles to raging rivers desperate to reach the drain. He pays it no mind. He has one destination in mind, and it causes him to pick up speed. Only to have the wind pick up and fight him. Moving the box back, he returns it to its protection.

"One block to go. I hope no cars drive by ..." and the wind picks up and howls. The noise drowns out the rest of his words.

Then he feels it. The rushing air is changing and moving to a new direction. He slides the package around his body in time with the changing direction. Soon, it is at his front while he gets a wet tailwind drenching his back. He curls over his cargo pulling it under his t-shirt as his bangs drip the excess water.

He hears it. The sound which he dreads, the dual splashing of car tires. Looking back over his left shoulder, he seeing the truck barreling for him. Behind the wheel, a wave of continuous water pours over the sidewalk behind him.

And it's gaining.

Careful not to slip, he walks faster. It's not enough. With two houses to go, he breaks into a jog. Arms around his box, he has nothing to pump with or use as counter balance for his steps.

The sound grows louder. He dare not look back for to do so would slow him down, but it sounds like it right behind him.

There! He spots it. The walkway up to the house just before the driveway. If I time this just right, I could -- He cuts himself off. It's time.

Throwing one arm out for balance and turning a tight corner like a running back dodging a defender, he cradles the box in the other and tries not to slip. His shoe lands on the step and his sole makes contact with the damp concrete. It holds.

He takes two steps at a time. The truck and its following tidal wave of rain water crash down on the sidewalk behind him. Bits of the resulting splash reach him, but not enough to differentiate from the rest of the rain already on his shirt.

The deliverer slows as he approaches the front door, now that the danger has passed. He rings the bell now that he is protected from the elements. Heh. That should annoy him.

He waits but no one comes to the door.

Faint sounds can be heard through the door. He rings the bell again. And then again for good measure.

The door flings open with an irritated, "What?!" The face softens as it recognizes the wet figure before it, "Dude! Max, what are you doing here?"

Max pulls the wrapped package from its hiding place. "Happy birthday, Steve."

"You walked all the way here?"

With a sweeping gesture to encompass all the dark clouds, pouring rain, and swaying trees, he says, "In this weather? Of course I did. It's perfect conditions for a nice walk."

They both chuckle. Steve looks back to the crowd behind him and then back to Max, "Wanna come in?"

With a twinkle in his eye he answers, "I'd love to. I wouldn't miss this for the world."