(no subject)
Storms appear quickly when you live so close to the sea. You find yourself lounging on a national monument, reading, when suddenly, you see the brilliant flash which excites you every time. Soon, the familiar smell wafts past your nose, you debate whether to describe it as sensuous...or sensual. you close your book and began your descent back to your den. You make a brief stop to make sure she's got what she would need and then head out again. The smell is stronger, the sky darker, the air thicker. A voice in your head tells you to quit trying to escape the storm and the hedonistic pleasure you find in it. You keep going anyways, stop by the car to grab an umbrella, but decide to leave it closed until the sleeper awakens. Your guest is courteous and allows you safe and dry passage to your shelter, but he is not without his humor when he unleashes himself upon three unwitting, and soon very unhappy, women coming through the parking lot. Once they've escaped his fury, he pauses and shares a rumbling, rolling laugh with you. Before long you find yourself watching him rage with unsettling fury. He breathes in howls, he growls loud and gutturally rumbles as if to say "My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!" punctuating the exclamation with a brilliant flash of light. And as strangely as he had come, he was gone.