I Am the Storm

by Trisha Lynn Halaas

  ‘Michael.’ As in, St. Michael the Archangel.

  For the first time ever, Levi looks scared. I’m pleased.

  “You killed him for good, and now I’m going to do the same to you. You will never be able to walk Earth again,” I seethe, walking around his massive desk.

  Way I figure it, this is how he was banished to Hell in the first place. His very own brother’s sword. I also figure it will stop him from ever roaming the world again.

  “I’m going to enjoy this, Levi,” I say, steadying the sword. “And, you can enjoy your lifetime stay.”

  I pierce the sword through where I imagine his heart would be, but he disappears before it even makes contact. The nails clatter to the floor.

  “What?” I scream, searching the room. “How? Where?”

  The frustration is too much to bear. I run around the room in circles hoping he will reappear. Finally, I fall to the ground in resignation.

  Suddenly, a large invisible hand grabs my arm. I soar through the air. The room spins away from me. I whirl through a tornado before roughly rolling onto uneven ground.

  I stand and survey the area. Brooks stands at-the-ready with a spear held tightly in his hand.

  “How?” I ask joining him, relieved to see Michael’s sword and the nails have also made the journey upward.

  He shrugs.

  I laugh, shaking my head. I’m relieved to be free of Hell, but I know we are not out of danger. I pick up the sword.

  “Had some help,” he says.

  Before I can investigate further, I spot movement near the edge of a cliff. I recognize the area. We’re at my brother’s tomb.

  Flapping accompanies the movement. Levi—the Leviathan—appears over the lip of the cliff.

  “I’m not playing anymore, Lyvs. If you’re not going to come willingly, I will take you by force. You cause me too much trouble. Period. If you won’t be my queen, you’ll be my captive.”

  “I’m never going back there,” I reply.

  Brooks throws his spear up in the air. I’m pleased to see it make contact. It pierces the beast, causing howls of agony. All seven heads that is. It’s deafening. The body heaves to the ground rolling toward us. I sprint around the screaming heads to its body.

  I rush forward plunging the giant blade deep into the beast’s chest. The heaving monster sets fire. Its body bursts into flames. The heads cry sickening whines of pain. The fire grows before bursting into black smoke. When it clears, the monstrosity is gone.

  I run over to Brooks and throw my arms around him. We kiss deeply. When I pull away, I notice tears are streaming uncontrollably down my face.

  The hammer. Pulverized.

  He can’t come back now. It’s over. I have to live with his loss forever. It’s real now. Levi said if the hammer is destroyed, Shane will be unable to return to life.

  I pick up the nails and the sword and walk over to the boulder. I need to make sure his body is still in there, undisturbed. I drive the relics into the crack. The boulder rolls open slowly. I’m not in a rush. He’s not coming back. I have to make myself comprehend that.

  I’ll never see my one and only partner-in-crime again. I’ll never hear his laugh and see his face. Hug his strong frame. Ruffle his silky thick hair.

  But when my view is unobstructed, the scene before me is baffling.

  Because—

  There he is.

  His warrior 6’3” form sits on the edge of the driftwood. He’s wearing his blue Ford Mustang t-shirt and ripped jeans. Michael Jordan slides don his feet. His huge intricately tattooed arms rest, elbows bent on his knees. A little past shoulder-length, his wavy hair resembles the color of a dark brown bear’s fur, yet laced with lighter hues from our teak childhood rocking horse. Trigger. He turns his head of ash brown hair, and his beautiful, honey-green eyes meet mine. Eyebrows raised, he’s got his crooked, side-smile on, the one that says, ‘What? You lookin’ for me?’ His perfect, white teeth glimmer in the moonlight. He’s got a bit of barely noticeable chewing tobacco tucked in his bottom lip. His face sports a short dark beard. In between his hands, rests a large, archaic hammer.

  How? The hammer got destroyed. Then I realize Levi is the one who provided that information.

  And—He’s the Devil. That’s what he does. Lies.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost—God. For bestowing upon me the gift to create my masterpiece, one that has given me emotional catharsis and personal growth throughout the most trying time of my life.

  Shane—my soul. My whole peach pie. My heavenly guide and spiritual protector. My movie-quote loving, secret-language speaking, Jedi-mind-trick master, partner-in-crime. You have always been my baby and grew into the man I measure every other man up to. You are my brother. You are my best friend. You are my person.

  Mom and Pops—Peach and Spud. For putting up with us kids. For making us who we are. For showing us what unconditional love feels like. For being the giant butterfly net that always catches us when we fall. For our unstoppable sense of humor and excellent music taste. Couldn’t live without our Ray Pruitt tunes and Airwolf Hovercraft, right, Shane? Right?

  Claire—Shane’s soulmate and ‘other’ partner-in-crime. For giving him the special kind of love on this Earth, the kind that not everyone gets to have. For being my midnight baking accomplice. For coming along on our shenanigans, being the voice of reason, and—of course—the comic relief.

  Shevawn—for being my real-life Persephone, I cannot do life without you. You’ve been with me before I was even born. We’ve gone from producing and starring in VHS masterpieces to publishing written works of art. I can’t imagine starring in music videos, costumed in discarded bridesmaids’ dresses and Superman ice cream-dyed lips, with anyone other than my ‘sister.’ I would be lost without you.

  Katie—for being the baby ‘sister’ I always wanted. For sharing your artistic gift with the world. And, Tom, for sharing your deep wealth of knowledge and many talents. For making up a large part of our DreamTeam.

  Meggie—for being my pearl-donning, improv-performing, twinning lifetime co-conspirator. Through losses to streaming tears of laughter, pies and ‘hazel’ eyes. From the sunlit bus station to the shimmying waitress line, you always have my back.

  Porsche—for getting me through many tough times. For our wolfpack. For being my rock in the white water rapids we call life. You have made me a part of your family, and I am forever grateful. Mom, ‘Vitamin’ (Adrien) and lil’ Alex, I love you all so much. Still need to get our fangirl on at BSB live.

  Shevy P—for your life-changing words and bottomless fountain of wisdom. Thank you for being my Turquoise Queen.

  Grandma Shevawn—for your fierce convictions and nonstop support. For passing your talent down through generations. For believing in my abilities ever since I was floating through your beauty parlor donned in your gorgeous scarves, singing “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah.”

  Gintare—my very first fan. Best college roommate a girl could ask for. Your ceaseless encouragement for new chapters will never be forgotten. LU and MU.

  Jean—my mentor. For sharing your wisdom and unwavering confidence in my gift throughout this arduous journey. For always being there and knowing exactly what to say.

  Junkyard Dog Publishing—for taking a chance on me! For allowing my creative vision and development to remain steadfast throughout this entire endeavor. And, for our unstoppable DreamTeam.

  Chloe—for being my emotional support dog, writing partner, and forever pitty-bull. I couldn’t have done this without my four-legged bébé.

  They say it takes an army. I’ve been lucky enough to have quite a few soldiers in my corner since day one. You know who you are.

  About the Author

  Trisha Lynn Halaas was a born writer and as a child, dubbed the family reporter. She would go on to write for her college newspaper, The Madonna Herald, and eventually a local newspaper in her home state of Michigan, The Suburban Lifestyles. Having a strong background in Bro
adcast Journalism, she managed to keep a diary through it all. Diligently journaling since 1990, she knew that her passion lied in more than reporting.

  A true writer, she has always been in love with the story. While in college, she would fantasize and take note of all the stories that she would someday pen after finishing grueling term papers. She is also an avid reader. ‘Silent reading time’ was her favorite subject in grade school as she continues to devour books daily.

  Forever a dreamer, an idea for her first fantasy fiction trilogy set in a dystopian post-apocalyptic future formed in her mind and the words incessantly begged to be put to paper.

  So she did, and she went a step further.

  After losing her beloved brother, Shane, to the ravages of addiction, she wanted to draw attention to the subject. She meshed her love of the story with her love for her brother, creating their own unique presentation of addiction awareness. Her debut novel explores timely themes, addiction, and grief in a new and unique way.

  It can be said that Trisha was handed the bitterest limes life has to offer. From which, she’s concocted the most delicious mint mojito in a sugar-rimmed martini glass topped with a tiny pink polka dot umbrella. She is a Michigan native who currently resides in Arizona with her dog, Chloe.

  If you would like to order signed books or join her mailing list, visit her website at:

  trishalynnhalaas.com