A bit of thunder crashes along the sky as the moon slowly rises and takes its rightful place..
The skin along my hand rippled and my cheeks flushed a neon pink. The harsh air swooshed along New York, stabbing at my body with knives of ice. My mud colored hair blew to the side, dancing with the wind that worked up a pattern of harshness.
A storm was on its way.
I looked up from the dark alley I stood it at the grey clouds that rolled along the air that filled my senses with fear.
"Please don't be another rain storm.." I whined to myself, the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight and...