Day 18 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write a story where the outcome is highly effected by weather.
Shannon: I watched my little sister looking out the window at the strong windstorm we were having. I thought she was just memorized by its strength, but then realized she was up to something as she grabbed a sheet of paper and slid it under the cracked window.
“Hey be careful. What you doing?” I ran over to her.
“I’m sending notes,” she smiled back at me and pushed another through the slot. It went zipping to the side immediately. It could end up anywhere in this weather.
“No you are littering,” I corrected her, picking up the rest of her sheets immediately. “Who do have to send notes to anyway?” I read the first one. Some letters were backwards and the words were spelt in kid’s speak, but I made out the first message. In crayon she had tried to write, I hope your day is happy and you smile a lot. I pressed my lips together, and smirked. She was more than a little adorable. “Is this for a friend?” I held it up.
She shook her head.
“Who is it for?”
“Everyone,” she cheered. “I want everyone to be happy. I drew them pictures too.”
I put my hand over my mouth. I was conflicted between whether I should cry or stop her. “Alright, I didn’t see you doing any of this if anyone asks, but that’s really nice,” I whispered putting up my hand to give her a very proud high-five.
Erin: My team had been working for years to make it to the national championship. The first time I pitched was before I could even read. So, I couldn’t help but feel like my life was leading up to this one life altering game.
In the bus on the way to the field I focused all of my energy into getting into the zone. My noise canceling headphones pared with keeping my eyes completely shut led to me successfully isolating myself in another land. I was about to head to another galaxy where the atmosphere would create the perfect medium to throw and wobble, drop, shake ball. I came up with that one when I was ten. Just as I hit the end of earths limits a tap on my shoulder brought me crashing back down.
“What,” I spat, my eyes landing on our catcher. He knew better.
“Look outside,” if I didn’t know better I would say we had crashed into a lake. The road was a river and the sky seemed to think there was still not enough moisture.
“Beautiful,” I was ready to go back and find my zone.
“Game’s cancelled,” he quickly elaborated, and just like that my life defining moment would be postponed for another day.
Some things are out of our character’s control… actually all things, they are in your control. Cool, you are powerful, use it.
Pelky Sisters 
Kate:
Tears streaked down her cheeks as I watching, quietly observing from a distance, the flower stems crumbling in her tense fingers. There was an awe in her aqua eyes even though they were ringed with red. We didn’t get torrential downpours here; this was a once in a lifetime kind of day. But it was also a once in a lifetime day for Megan. Her white dress embroidered with a million sparkling beads was muddy at the hem and her classic heels lay ruined in a pile by the bench.
On the windowsill lay a heap of broken blood roses and torn white lilies; they reminded me that this day was supposed to be an amazing day for my little sister and now it was in pieces scattered about the ancient church. Leaving my pink and alabaster boots at the door I padded on bare feet to Megan, who was still crying silently, to brush her shoulder gently. Though she flinched at my touch she didn’t turn around; she just watched the rain wash clean the reception tables on the marble patio.
“Livie,” she spoke with a heaviness I’d never heard from her, “was this a mistake?” With a slight trembled in her voice on the last syllable I smiled sympathetically, hugging her round the middle. But she still wouldn’t turn or smile like she used to. “I think this was a mistake,” she whispered to the rain.
Finally looking around to me I could see the rivers the mascara had made on her face. She wouldn’t look me in the eye so I half-smiled and murmured reassuringly, “You love him, he loves you. This is just a little rain and jitters.” Fixing her veil, that had come askew in the rush to get inside, I caressed her hand. When the lacy cover was straight I held her slight hands in mine and we breathed calmly together for a while.
I could feel her pulse slowly steady to a normal speed, calming after her storm of negative emotions. Though the tears had left their mark on her pale cheeks they were no longer flowing. Suddenly I had an idea and kissed her lightly on the forehead and bolted from the room with only a shouted, “Don’t leave this room!” as the door slammed behind me.
Rushing into the main hall of the enormous church I scouted out Henry, the groom, and spied his mother rubbing her hands together restlessly. When I arrived the party was discussing whether the marriage could be performed in the chapel itself. A hush fell over them when I slid into the group, barefoot. Gasping I asked, “Gertrude, could you be a dear, please, and fix Meg’s hair?” Grinning too wide she excused herself and waddled into the other chamber.
As Henry went to speak I put my hand up and stalked to the other end of the hall. My heart pounded out a samba against my ribcage as I leaned against a smooth wooden column original to the building. Closing my eyes I felt someone’s hand cuff my wrist and lips pressed gently on mine. I felt my cheeks flush when he put his hand against my face and my eyes fluttered open to gaze at my husband, Tony.
His warm amber eyes searched mine for the worry he could feel in my pulse but found it mysteriously gone. When shouting started up outside the hall we promptly split as I leapt into full-on bridesmaid mode and Tony rushed to Henry’s side to ensure he didn’t see Meg in her dress.
Once standing under the front awning of the chapel I could see very clearly what the fuss was about; my little sister’s former boyfriend had fought through two unarmed wedding guests to get onto the grounds. He was staggering up the elegant brick walkway, drunkenly singing off-tune. As he got closer I see the nearly-drained bottle swinging from his good hand. Suddenly he noticed me, hands on hips, between him and the doorway.
Thinking quickly he tossed the bottle, which shattered over a lovely pot of burgundy and ivory roses, and lumbered toward me. After a few steps he listed to one side and ended up amongst the ornamental grasses. Not wanting to get any wetter than I already was, I called back into the hall for Tony.
He was at my side before I’d even shut the massive, intricately engraved doors. Seeing the lump of a man in the grass he took off his neatly pressed jacket and handed it off to me. Without another word he stalked into the downpour, he was instantly soaked through to the bone, and lifted the wedding crasher by his wrinkled collar. Tony walked him out to the road and tossed him on the sidewalk.
By the time he got back to the steps he was chatting genially with the two late guests, two of our third cousins from the big city. Showing them into the main room he hung back to retrieve his jacket from me. I smiled and hid it behind my fuchsia bodice, laughing, “You are soaking wet, honey. You need to change or I’m not giving you your jacket back.” Pecking me on the cheek he smiled slyly before heading back inside.
I followed a moment later, hanging the jacket on the coat stand and was almost immediately grabbed by a frantic Gertrude, “She doesn’t want to go through with the wedding! What do we do?” Hyperventilating, she had worked herself up into a tizzy. Sighing I glanced around and, seeing we weren’t in a private area, I led her away to an alcove with a wonderful view of the gardens.
Again ensuring we had some privacy I spoke in a hushed tone, “Gertrude, she loves Henry. She’ll come ‘round.” Sniggering slightly I gossiped, “Actually, if it hadn’t rained and brought us all inside the wedding might’ve been ruined completely.” When I got an odd look from Henry’s elderly mother I elaborated, “Meg’s previous boyfriend was the ruckus out there; he was drunk and singing her song. Perhaps this rain is a blessing in disguise,” I smiled.
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Russell:
Jonick flicked a switch to mechanical mishap that was the engine to lower the draw bridge as dark clouds frothed above. Jonick his telescopic eye piece twirled forwards he analysed the clouds. “Expected ph. levels of rainfall will be bellow 0.5 acidity. We have five minutes.” The engine spurted and rumbled, dying shortly after.
Colter bent down on knee and used his pocket knife to start unscrewing a panel that protected the inner compartments. Pulling the panel off, he looked over the insides of the machine. “This thing hasn’t been oiled.”
Jonick leaned in beside him, his aperture spun back as he looked over the derelict engine in it’s entirety. “I am surprised that you came to that conclusion so quickly.” He studied the malfunctioning motor before pulling out a toolkit strapped to his belt.
“It’s a guess.” Colter stood up and looked over the cliff edge as tar black water sloshed down the corroded canyon river. The rusted drawbridge specked caustic white burns as lumps were bitten out of parts. The chain used to raise and lower the bridge was in no better shape, years of rust caking it. He pulled out his astronomic communicator and set it to open audio. “Captain Desterhan to the Black Curtain, do you have the package?”
A nervous voice crackled over. “Um, Doyle and Patel found it and their-”
Colter barked. “No, do you have the package on the ship?”
“N-n-no sir.”
Colter somberly looked over the rusted bridge and back to the neglected engine. “Get them back on ASAP, we’re going to need an extraction over by my coordinates.” He clicked the side of the communicator, a yellow blinking. “I’ve sent them now. Relay me to Doyle and Patel.”
The sound of a screw driver whirling caused Colter to turn back as Jonick started dissembling the engine. “Jonick?”
“By my next estimates, if we do not find shelter in two point eight minutes we will be exposed the eventual rainfall.” He closed one eye as he used his pocket welder to create a dome. “This will increase our survival rates by ninety five percent.” He welded a long pipe to the inside of it. “Or as others may call it, an umbrella!” He stepped beside Colter as he shared the umbrella between the two of them.
Colter laughed. “Thanks, Jonick.”
“No worries Captain.”
“We’re friends, you don’t have to call me that.”
“You’re still the Captain regardless.”
Colter sighed. “Yeah, Captain.” He checked the communicator, the first trickle of rain dribbling down around them. “Captain Desterhan to Doyle and Patel, do you read over?”
“Affirmative Captain.” Doyle’s voice coolly replied.
“Are you two inside the Black Curtain?” Colter waited.
“Yes Captain, we’re inside now.”
“Good, that will be all.” He switched back to the helm of the Black Curtain. “Guppy, Fishel, bring the ship over.”
The drawl of Guppy’s voice burbled. “Yes’r Kaptain”
“Good, Captain Desterhan out.” He flicked the device off as rain pattered down faster. “Jonick, how long will this umbrella hold?”
Jonick rubbed his chin. “I estimate at least another year before the metal is eaten away completely.”
“It will hold then.”
“Yes.” Jonick answered plainly.
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Created to Write:
Whenever the team has a sleepover, the end result always varies. How it goes depends on multiple things.
One, location.
If they are at the farm, everyone ends up in the living room, or in either Heather’s room and/or the guest rooms on the second level. One time, on a particularly warm night, Heather opted for the hay in the barn. Not everyone slept well that time.
If they are in New York City, they are at the Evert’s house. They all convene in the living room/great room, depending on who can sleep on wood and who needs to sleep on something soft.
Two, recent events.
Sometimes, the team is back from a mission, so they fall asleep rather quickly, or not at all because they ran out of pain medication (and the villain was particularly brutal).
Other times, they are just having a get together, and everyone enjoys games, food, and funny/scary stories.
Three, trauma.
Everyone has something that keeps them up at night. This is the strongest out of all others.
Heather makes a few trips to the kitchen when she can’t sleep. It’s heavier in the city. Reliving her torture at night dampens the mood of a friendly get together.
Josh stays up the longest, or tries to. He knows his friends will have problems at night, so he wants to be up in order to help them. But if he succeeds, he’s the most tired in the morning.
Jacey remembers training under Ms. Roberts, and is chased by the ice wielding witch if it is too cold in the room. Winter is her least favorite time to sleep.
Finn sometimes looses control of his powers at night, especially during a nightmare. Some placid times are when his hand sleep-draws harmless origami that animates for a little while. While other things could damage a person or thing in the room with him, if he isn’t careful.
Rick sometimes wakes up in a rush and looks for Jacey. He admits he has no nightmares before hand, but has a sudden urge to make sure she’s safe that it wakes him up.
Nikki doesn’t have nightmares, but as a light sleeper, she’s awakened by her peers. Then, it’s hard for her to fall back asleep again.
August… August varies. Not everyone knows of his trauma, but his friends are well aware of the giant bite mark on his shoulder. So whenever they have a get together (sometimes even with normal days), Josh and Heather look at the weather forecast for the night. If it has any rain, and even worse thunder, one of them stays closest to August. Because the thunder reminds him of the roaring before he was gnawed on that fateful day. Keeping windows open to smell the rain helps, but with the weather as a factor, no one really knows how the evening will go.
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