The Cycle of Constellations: The Big Dipper (Fall)

(The Fourth in a Four Part Series of Vignettes)

       Rain unrolled across the hills. As the drops smacked the puddles, they exploded in thousands of tiny bowls. Evan and Sara pressed into the cold shelter of the mausoleum stairs.
       "This is just our luck," Evan said.
       "It’s not so bad. Kinda fun, actually."
       Sara nestled into him. The hems of her jeans were soaked.
       "I hope it lets up before we have to go back to the car."
       "It’ll let up," Sara said.
       Evan peeked from under the roof. The night sky boiled with flickers of lightning.
       "I don’t know," he said. "Looks like a monster."
       Somewhere close, a bolt seared the air, and a tree detonated.
       "My mom’s gotta be crapping her pants," he said. "Good thing we didn’t tell her we’re going to a place she can call."
       "It’s an autumn storm," Sara said. "Unpredictable. The sky might be crystal clear over there."
       Evan nodded, then stared out over the glistening cemetery. So many shapes and heights of stones. An angel perched over all. Its head tilted in observance of the lowly Earth.
       After a silence, Sara spoke.
       "Evan?"
       "Hmm?"
       "You think we’ll be married someday?"
       "Married?" Evan asked.
       "Yeah. You know, with a house of our own?"
       The roar suddenly softened, and a restless wind stirred.
       "I think so," he whispered.
       "Look, it’s breaking up," Sara said.
       Evan leaned forward. Indeed, the curtains were drawing back, but only crack in the heart of the storm.
       Another power was building. Soon, Evan and Sara could feel it in the their skin. Tingles raced across their bodies and their breaths tightened. The air grew still and sizzled with electricity.
       Then, their eyes filled with a hazy, purple light. Along the fence and all the iron spires, licks of mystical flame leapt.
       Sara gasped, and her hand dropped to cover Evan’s. St. Elmo’s fire danced in the night.
       And high overhead, secretive beyond the clouds, the Big Dipper turned among the stars. In the spirit of the season, the great ladle tipped, and the heavenly deluge poured and poured.

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short story
fiction