Categories > Original > Drama1 Reviews
Have you ever wondered what the clouds think of human behavior, if they could think of it at all?
An original fiction by Sir Psycho Sexy
A/N: This fic was thought of when I was out swinging on the local playground; I was looking up at the clouds and wondered what they would think of us were they sapient. Combine that with my ponderings on what humanity is...and you get this fic.
Drip, drip, drop.
The child floated above the meadow, separating ever-so-gently from its mother, its water droplets condensing, evaporating, and reforming in a continual cycle, somehow making it alive in a sense. It looked down at the odd figures roaming about the meadow, kicking a spherical object between their...legs, was it...?...the child could never remember what the parts or types of "humans" below were. And until now, it didn't really care.
One of them was fumbling over their legs, trying in earnest to stand up...The child rubbed its droplets together in utter confusion as to why this one was so sluggish, and why it seemed to look, upon closer inspection, a different shape from the others. The child rearranged itself as if to question the mother whether the particular human-shape was akin to a fiery black nimbus or to a gentle, fluffy cumulostratus; the mother backed away.
The mother's expression was knowing and gentle, as if to reassure the child that he could figure out this strange, erratic behavior of these human beings by itself. If he could, in cloud-logic, distinguish if he were a rising tempest of anger, black as charcoal, or if he were fluffy and shaped like a puppy in the middle of retrieving a bone. The mother's expression gave the child hope.
It looked down as its mother drifted towards skies unknown. There was that strange human again; this time, there was a group of others surrounding it...or was it somehow described more accurately as "him"?...and he was trying once more to get up from a seated position. His legs were wobbling upon the strange metallic objects that were somehow attached to them as the group pressed in closer...Strange chants could be heard...
"Aw, can't ya kick the damn ball, ya retard?"
"C'mon! He's ruined the game already! Punch 'im!"
And then the child felt the atmosphere change; water vapor became more heady, forming infant clouds that banded and disbanded with the change of time, thunder emanating from the group of human children. It didn't want to watch this, it wanted to deny that it was happening, and dismiss it as the humans randomly changing shape with the wind; but it floated away anyway, the nuclei of its water-droplets moving along in denial.
Halfway around the world the child went, trying to escape what it had just witnessed; but it did it no good. Everywhere it went, there was some example of this strange formation of humans, a seemingly weaker, fluffy one surrounded by torrents of black. On some occasions, it decided not to deny what was occuring in these mobs, and it would descend down to the earth in the form of fog, in hopes of confusing the mob, or it would send down tears of rain and thunderbolts of its purest rage in vengeance. Once it was satisfied that it struck one of the offenders down dead with its stores of thunder, it would smile to itself, water-droplets rubbing in glee against one another.
It had seen another strange formation of humans along its journeys; this one was even more of a mob that the ones he had struck down. It did not know if they were doing exactly, but they were prostrating themselves before something they called "God" or "Allah" or "the Buddha" or "Shiva" or "The Higher Power". They all said this person or power was someplace in the sky, and about half of them, the more western half, it seemed, said among themselves that this power or person was all-powerful and could smite its enemies.
The child-cloud smirked. Maybe these "gods" the humans spoke of were really clouds like itself.
And around it went on the wind, thundering down upon any human in the group of what it learned were called "bullies" that it deemed fit for retribution via death, for it was a god.
And it drifted farther still, until it viewed a scene of abject misery; humans writhing about with strange lumps on their...bodies, was it?...and strange black marks oozing out a crimson liquid onto the earth. Their...faces?...were contorted into some of the most tormented appearances it had ever witnessed, and every few seconds, one of them died, on mountains of flesh composed of other dead bodies.
Not too far in the distance, it spotted another cloud, mushroom-shaped and large enough to have been its grandmother. It wandered toward it, eager at long last to meet another god, maybe the god that it should 'pray' to.
It asked the other if it had smote humans with its thunder. The other did not reply.
It asked it again, this time if it really was a god.
The other did not reply.
All it did was expand with a loud noise like the shifting of continents, slowly engulfing the child, molecule by molecule, until it was no more.
Everything had become silent and still upon the Earth; neither clouds nor humankind had survived because of one 'country's' insistence of 'bullying' another because it called 'God' by a different name.
Nuclear summer had arrived. No one was left to become a god.