Written for Flash! Friday vol. 2-36. This week’s prompt was “include a thunderstorm”, and the image prompt is as shown. (This was a tough one — I couldn’t even think of a title.)
Georgia was born in the Second Year of the Thunderstorm. Growing up beneath the artificial lights of Escher, she splashed in the puddles near the exits, ate the reclaimed food, and rarely thought about the torrential rains outside the cave.
Her first Sunday changed all that. She remembered her ten-year-old self being awestruck by the receding floodwaters — and blue skies. The people of Escher flooded out of the caves, joined by their sister colony across the valley.
She remembered laughter, warm sunshine, and building castles in the mud with a boy from Dali. He stole a kiss, then ran away. That first returning clap of thunder broke her heart.
Years passed. Each night she dreamed of sunlight on her face.
On the day that first sunbeam peeked into the main cavern of Escher, she rushed outside. A young man splashed across the valley towards her. As they embraced in the blue-white sunlight, Georgia’s heart and worries melted away.