Chapter 26
Ihadn’t intended on trying my luck with yet another weather event, but the news promised a lightning storm, and I couldn’t stop myself.
The sky in Texas had been brewing something electric all afternoon.
The clouds had a mood to them—low, brooding and thick with the promise of violence.
I chased them West in my rental car, a rusted-up Chevy with a bad tire and worse brakes, watching the clouds swell across the horizon like a fresh bruise.
I figured if the lightning didn’t get me maybe a car crash would. Either way, I wouldn’t complain.
I parked on the side of the road somewhere near Amarillo.
When I got out of the car, I walked into a field of dry grass that came up to my knees.
I left the car door open as if I’d be right back.
I confused myself because wasn’t the point to not come back?
But I chose not to get too caught up in that because all around me the air buzzed.
The humid static wrapped itself along my arms like a second skin.
Everything smelled like ozone and adrenaline. It felt like something big was coming.
The storm didn’t just arrive; it assembled.
Like an army ready to take on its counterpart.
Lightning split the clouds open and tore across the sky like a net of fire.
It had started as a gentle flicker, then another, and then it began to look like someone was playing with magic up there.
Each flash cast my shadow against the ground, and each time I hoped it would be the last thing I ever saw.
Thunder cracked around me in delayed fury.
The storm hadn’t started with rain; it was almost eerie to stand out here with just the sound of thunder crackling and lightning flashing across the sky.
Gusts of wind kicked up out of nowhere, slapping my face with sharp dirt and wet heat.
When the first bolt hit a tree a few fields over, I flinched, but I didn’t move.
This was what I had come for. The wind whipped across the open field like it had teeth, biting at my skin.
I took my shoes off and chased the storm barefoot through the grass, wet blades sliced at my ankles.
The sky pulsed above me like it was alive—furious and breathing.
Lightning forked across the clouds in rapid succession, illuminating the world in stark white flashes.
Each bolt struck somewhere in the distance like the sky was marking targets.
The air crackled with static, buzzing beneath my skin like a live wire had threaded itself through my veins.
I ran toward the sound of it, toward the thunder that rolled like a voice I thought I’d heard before.
“Come on,” I whispered, breathless, “I’m right here.
” If this was judgment day, I wanted a front row seat.
A bolt hit a telephone pole less than thirty feet away, and the explosion of light and sound stopped my heart for half a second.
It was like God had gotten distracted with his show and missed, forgetting to kill me.
The air shattered around me and my ears rang from the explosion.
Something came flying through the air and hit me.
My chest throbbed from the impact, but I was still standing.
Still breathing. Still me. I dropped to my knees in the wet grass and laughed—hysterical, wrecked, and alive.
Not because it was funny, but because it was beautiful.
Because at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about dying.
I was feeling—really feeling—everything.
Fear. Wonder. Rage. Awe. The kind of wonder they say children have before they realized the world was cruel.
The kind of wonder I had lost early on. The kind of awe that makes you want to believe in something, anything, even if it’s just in a sky that keeps refusing to take you home.
I stood there, arms out; my body trembled but remained upright, defiant. I knew it wasn’t taking me today. I’d accepted that. So, I stayed for the beauty. I stayed for the experience.
The wind knocked me back, and I stumbled to the ground, gravel embedded in my palms. I watched the lightning pass over me from where I sat in a praying form on my knees.
It left the sky cracked open, looking exhausted.
Storms were selfish that way; they came, wreaked havoc, and then left without so much as an apology.
The rain finally bothered to show up, and warm, fat raindrops began to fall, soaking me.
I walked back to where I had left my camera and began to pack up my equipment.
I found myself looking forward to watching the footage back.
For the beauty of it and the experience versus trying to find the moment the gates of heaven had said no to me.
I was fluid and loose in my movements as I broke down my tripod, feeling at ease with existing for once.
Then, from behind me came a voice, too close to just be my imagination. “Hey.”
I spun, blinking rain out of my eyes. A girl—maybe in her late twenties, dark hair soaked to her scalp—stood behind me in a yellow poncho, gripping her phone. “I saw your car. I thought maybe you got stuck.”
I didn’t answer. She stepped closer. “You were just… standing in it. Why?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
She squinted at me. Taking in my bare feet and my camera equipment. Then she walked even closer to stand near me. Close, but not too close.
“You okay?”
“Are you?” I volleyed back. She laughed.
“Funny you should ask ‘cause I almost wasn’t. I had thought about ending it. This morning. I almost… you know. But something about this storm… It’s—it’s stupid, but being out here, watching the sky throw a tantrum, made me feel like maybe I’m not the only thing falling apart, and that maybe I’ll be okay. ”
We stood in silence for a few seconds. The gravity of what she had just said weighed heavily on me. On one hand, I wondered why she would tell a stranger that, and on the other hand, I recognized the moment of no longer giving a fuck of what anyone thought because tomorrow it might not matter.
“You changed your mind?” I finally asked.
“Maybe not for forever. But for today, yeah.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I get that.”
We let her words sit there, rain pouring down our faces.
We didn’t ask for more details. Didn’t put words to the questions we probably both had.
Her wondering why I was out here in a dangerous lightning storm, me wondering how she would have done it if she had gone through with it.
We didn’t need to. We were just two idiots who had gone out today looking for different kinds of endings and wound up here with an odd kind of beginning instead.
She hugged her arms around her, puffing out the yellow plastic of her poncho and we continued to stand there, on the steaming grass, dripping wet.
The storm still flashed off in the distance.
Her face was pale, all sharp angles and deep-set eyes.
But they didn’t look hopeless, at least not to me; she still had fight left in her. I could see it. I wondered if she knew.
We didn’t exchange names. She still didn’t ask about the camera although I saw her look at it multiple times as I put it into the trunk of the car. Eventually, she stepped away. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You too.”
She walked down the road, and I watched her until she became a yellow dot on the horizon. Then I got into the car and left.
The drive back felt different. The storm had broken apart, and the sun shone through the tears in the clouds.
I still had the windshield wipers on, and they squealed across the glass just making the mud splatter worse.
Her words, for today, kept replaying in my head.
Like remaining alive was an agreement you signed one day at a time.
I came across a gas station, and I got out to pump some gas and buy myself chocolate milk.
I stood there soaking wet, adrenaline still alive in my veins.
I wondered if I’d see her yellow poncho in my dreams tonight or if I’d be plagued by my usual nightmares.
When the pump indicated that my tank was full, I got back in my car and drove off. I forgot the chocolate milk.
“This is some god-level cinematography. Terrifying and beautiful.”
“No way this guy made it through that untouched.”
“I feel like he’s not chasing storms—he’s chasing something inside himself.”
“I needed to see this today. Thank you.”