Beneath the Blazing Sky
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 815
The sun glared down on Earth like an angry eye, its coronal mass ejection barreling toward the planet with unstoppable brutality. The storm was predicted to strike within 48 hours, and the world braced for an unraveling. Cities buzzed with panic. Airports shut down. Newscasters, visibly shaken, warned of the storm’s unprecedented strength: “SEVERE SOLAR STORM TO STRIKE EARTH AT 9:12 PM GMT. EXPECT GLOBAL BLACKOUTS. PREPARE IMMEDIATELY.”
In her Chicago apartment, Dr. Phoenix Hayes scrolled through images of the sun’s violent eruption. Her inbox was flooded with questions from colleagues and media outlets, all seeking answers she didn’t have. She had spent years researching solar storms, warning of their catastrophic potential, but governments hadn’t listened. Now, power grids were expected to fail, satellites would go dark, and humanity’s dependence on technology would collapse like a house of cards.
Phoenix stared at her phone. She wanted to call her father, Harold. He lived alone in rural Mississippi, far removed from modern conveniences—no internet, no cell phone. But it wasn’t just his isolation that made her hesitate. Their last conversation, four years ago, had ended in a shouting match. “You’re so caught up in the stars, you’ve forgotten where you came from,” he’d said. She’d slammed the phone down, burying her hurt in her work.
The phone buzzed with another alert. Phoenix swiped it away and grabbed her car keys. There wasn’t much time.
The highways were chaos. Horns blared. Families crammed belongings into cars as if outrunning the storm itself. Phoenix’s hybrid car hummed quietly as she navigated backroads, bypassing blocked highways and abandoned vehicles.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the auroras began. Swirling bands of green and crimson light danced across the sky, painting the world in an eerie glow. It was beautiful, yes, but also haunting—a vivid reminder of the sun’s unchecked power.
Phoenix reached her father’s house just as the first wave of electromagnetic disruption struck. Her car dashboard flickered and died. The world seemed to shudder with silence, as if holding its breath.
The small wooden house stood dark against the horizon, its only light the faint glow of candles in the window. Phoenix knocked, and after a pause, the door creaked open.
“Phoenix?” Harold stood in the doorway, his face etched with lines of age and surprise.
“Dad,” she choked out, the words catching in her throat. “I had to come.”
He stared at her for a long moment, then stepped aside. “Come on in.”
The house was filled with the comforting smell of woodsmoke and Harold’s infamous chili simmering on the wood stove. A battery-powered transistor radio buzzed faintly on the counter, broadcasting warnings that no one could heed anymore.
They sat in silence for a while, sipping coffee and listening to the fire crackle. Finally, Phoenix spoke. “I’ve spent so much time studying the stars, but I never stopped to think about the people who taught me to look up at them.”
Harold’s hand stilled over his coffee mug. “Your mother used to say you were born to fly. I guess I didn’t know how to let you go without feeling like I’d lose you.”
“I should have called,” Phoenix admitted. “I let my pride get in the way.”
He looked at her, his expression softening. “We both did.”
The storm intensified outside, the auroras casting strange shadows through the windows. The power flickered and went out, leaving them in the warm glow of the firelight.
As the hours stretched on, Harold shared stories from his childhood, tales Phoenix had long forgotten. She told him about her work, her regrets, and her dreams. When the radio finally died, they sang the hymns her mother used to hum while cooking.
The storm lasted through the night, its fury relentless, but inside the small house, time seemed to pause. When the first rays of sunlight broke through, Phoenix and Harold stepped outside. The sky was clear, and the air hummed with an uncanny stillness.
Neighbors wandered over, sharing news and supplies. An elderly woman with a flashlight told them how her husband had rigged their generator to keep their freezer running. A young man offered Harold a jar of homemade preserves.
“We’ll get through this,” Harold said, his voice steady. “We always do.”
Phoenix realized then how resilient her father was. He didn’t need the internet or electricity to survive. He had his community, his faith, and his determination.
“I think I’ll stay a while,” she said, her voice firm. “Help out. Reconnect.”
Harold smiled, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. “We’d like that.”
As the world began its slow recovery, Phoenix found herself drawn to the simplicity of life in her father’s small town. Together, they helped rebuild—not just their lives, but their relationship. The storm had stripped away so much, but it had also revealed what truly mattered beneath the blazing sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment