I woke up when the room was washed in a bright light. Sitting up in bed, with the sheets twisted around my ankles, I glanced at the window hopefully. Headlights didn't really reach up high enough to show in my small, drafty room in the loft. That could mean only one thing.
There was a storm tonight. Vaulting out of bed, with the first day of freedom tomorrow, (the first day of summer,) I didn't care about sleeping. I had to watch this. I always missed the good storms because of sleep. That wouldn't stop me tonight.
The lightning tonight didn't stay in the clouds. It came down at jagged angles, nearly striking the earth. The thunder was deafening and it shook the house each time. Aunt Lucille downstairs was probably trying to calm down bratty little Sheila, who would be throwing a fit about the noise. She wasn't afraid, it just annoyed her. I didn't see how anyone couldn't enjoy it.
Bright lights cracking open the atmosphere, gone so fast that if you were to see one out of the corner of your eye you might wonder it you're seeing an afterimage or going insane. Cool spray on your face from the rain that hits the roof, and loud thunder to shake you up and calm you down at the same time. Thunder always had that effect on me. It could put me right to sleep in seconds. That's why I always stood up and went to the window.
My parents had loved lightning. They were storm chasers and sci-fi novelists, traveling the world for their hobby as well as their stories. My only sister was Sheila, a snot-nosed little ten year old. She didn't understand storms. I was afraid of tornadoes, but not this. This was a natural beauty unlike any other.
Suddenly, the room was lit up by very close lightning. Right in the tree outside my window, to be exact. I fell back, landing hard on my butt and wincing at the thunder that followed. I stood up shakily and checked out the window.
A boy at my tender age of fifteen sat in the tree. He had pure white hair and storm cloud colored eyes. He had fang teeth and funny clothes, all chains and leather.
I should warn you now, I've never been accused of being normal.
"Hello!" I chirped, flicking my eyes towards another lightning strike farther away. "Can I help you?"
"Help me?" he asked, not as if he was asking what I meant but actually asking for help. I popped the screen out and reached for him, leaning out the window. He took my hand and I hauled him inside, and took a good look at him.
He had an angular face, a little elf-like. He wasn't buff, but he was muscular in a stringy, sinewy way. The best way, if you ask me.
"I'll get you a towel," I muttered, turning around to hide the blush that spread across my face at that thought.
Emerging from the closet with a clean towel in hand, I saw the boy sit down at my desk and stare blankly at my drawings. They weren't very good; they were a mix between realism and cartoons, and the faces were all screwed up. I'd started drawing X characters, people with Xs for faces, because I was sick of trying to draw them.
"I like this one," he said, pointing. It made me happy that he had the courtesy to not touch the paper with his wet hands. I glanced at the picture; it was the one of an X boy sitting in a tree. It resembled him greatly, and I shivered at the thought.
"Thanks," I said, throwing the towel on his head. He hunched his shoulders for a moment, and then relaxed. While I toweled off his hair, I asked, "so what were you doing sitting in my tree when lightning struck?"
"I'm a demon. I didn't know where else to go, so I went somewhere that felt right." He shrugged.
"Why aren't you in the underworld?" I asked.
"I need to learn to be bad," he replied. I pulled the towel away from his head.
"You're serious about this, aren't you?"
"Of course." He held up a hand. Static wove through his fingers, pausing to dance on his palm, and then disappear. I gasped.
"How did you do that?" I asked.
"I told you," he replied, with a confused tilt of his head, "I'm a demon."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I was hoping to stay here, if you don't mind," he replied, giving me a goofy and very un-demon like smile.
"Then you're sleeping on the floor. And try not to let anyone know you're here."
"Will do," he said, curling up with the towel as a pillow. I tossed an extra pillow and the comforter at him, and straightened out the sheets so I could go to bed. I suddenly didn't have the energy to watch the storm. It was over anyways.
