Listen to the Rain (excerpt)
It was old man Watcher who taught me to hunt the magic. I taught Molly, because two can cover more ground than one.
I looked for the dark, churning bits of sky, and then climbed the highest hill I could and waited. Some nights, nothing happened. But, sometimes…
I saw the swirling in the clouds break, then clap together, spewing bits of white. The lightning hit me in brilliant, molten rivers. It smacked against my hands and rolled and boomed in loud, low beats. It shook me through, and I couldn't see; but, I caught it.
It still crackled a bit as I ran home, but in time it calmed down and accepted its imprisonment between my cold, wet fingers.
Molly waited for me underneath the window. Neither of us could open it alone. “Did you get any?”
She shook her head. Thick drops scattered from her frizzy hair. I knelt beside her to reveal my prize. “That’s OK.” The flickering wisp of pink and purple still amazed her every time. She rarely caught it herself, but I understood. I used to run from the lightning too; until Watcher disappeared.