(Backstory: This was written for a friend that was struggling at work, watching a storm approach. She commented that the lightning appeared to be dancing. And plop, this little story fell into my brain.)

Storm Party

The motes were all asleep. Sometimes it seemed as though all they ever did was sleep. But they weren’t just dozing, they were dreaming, dreaming of the next time there would be enough zap to wake them.

They never knew where the zap came from, just that it showed up on occasion and when it did, they would be free. For how long was anyone’s guess. Which is why, when the zap arrived, the motes wasted no time putting their fantasy plan into action.

And it was happening right now. The darkness began to gather around them, getting deeper and blacker every moment. The young motes noticed first. It didn’t take too much to fill them with zap and they were off.

Ping, ping, ping, ping, ping ping, ping.

Bouncing off each other, spinning and twirling. More and more zap was filling the motes and soon the older ones began to wake. They held their spots, watching the young motes, seeing what they had come up with during their first slumber.

Things began to get colder, slowing the young motes down. But the ancient motes were beginning to stir, seeing their younger brethren begin to stretch and spin. Bang, bang, bang, they crashed into one another, getting more excited with every collision.

Suddenly, the youngest mote had a thought. ‘It’s a dance. I’ll show them!’ He had never danced before, he wasn’t really sure where the word had come from or why he thought it but it made him vibrate with glee. The other young ones began to join him and soon they were all dancing in sequence.

Ping, ping. Bang. Bang. Bang. Sizzle.

Oooh, that was new, they liked sizzle. They flipped over one another, the sizzles got longer. The old guard wouldn’t be outdone. They had attended this party before and they knew something better than sizzle.

They all lined up, like dominoes. Bumping from side to side. Enjoying the zap. Then number one fell into number two, transferring his zap. And so it went down the line. Each fall resulting in a crack or a pop. Rumbles growing louder all the time.

As they came the to end of line, the ancients decided it was time to show the others how it was done. They were full of zap now and watching the young motes learn to dance had multiplied their energy. They worked up to it.

Ping, ping bang. Ping bang, bang sizzle. Bang sizzle, sizzle crack.

Oh, they liked to crack. Crack. Crack. Crack. The others had stopped to watch the ancients. They had used nearly all their zap and were about to fall asleep again when suddenly, boom, Boom, BOOM. The ancients were nearing the finale. The other motes still growing quieter.

Crack, crack, pop, crack. Sizzle bang. Sizzle Ping. Ping.

A rumble. The blackest black and coldest cold.

KABOOM

A jolt of lightning struck the earth and the motes went back to sleep, waiting, waiting, waiting. For the next zap…