Big clouds of orange and purple, streaked with hints of dark grey, floated above the land. They swooshed and swirled, consuming each other in a macabre dance.
"I wish I could jump on one, be a part of them, and throw lightning bolts at Haniya and Miraaj whenever I want," Isra muttered, a grin creeping across her face at the thought. Leaning against a drenched lamp post, her gaze darted among the clouds. By the looks of it, a heavy storm was on its way, and the prelude drizzle had already begun.
At her feet, a brown satchel lay abandoned in the muddy water, its contents spilled and soaking in the growing puddle. A notebook sat open, pages slowly turning to pulp. Among them, a register marked "Algebra" floated on the weak current of a roadside stream. Isra stared at it, unbothered. Honestly, she couldn't care less—these had troubled her enough already. Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to mix alphabets with math? Such abominations deserved to drown.
Isra was a creature of a different world. Her huge, chromium eyes reflected the stormy sky above, her raven-black hair cascading in wild tangles. Her uniform, once white, now bore the hues of a life lived unrestrained—shades of muddy brown and patches of greenish stains. She didn't care for appearances or facades. She moved beyond them, living untethered, as free as the wind herding the migratory clouds. Often, she felt her purpose lay somewhere out there, far beyond the horizon.
It was astonishing how someone so dirty could look so wondrous at the same time.
Moments ago, she had been trudging toward school, the so-called asylum. Her gaze had lingered on the sky, where she spotted something odd: a single white cloud, ducking and weaving against the tide of dark grey. It moved against the storm, almost as if it had a purpose of its own.
The honk of a car jolted her back to reality. She looked down at her sorry satchel bag. The algebra register, now almost entirely submerged, seemed to mock her. With a sigh, she reached down, picked it up, and shoved it back into the bag. Pushing stray strands of hair behind her ears, she took a step toward the school.
But her thoughts were already drifting back to the sky.
"What was it? How?" she wondered, her pace quickening toward the looming gates of the asylum. Yet her gaze flickered back, her curiosity pulling her toward the mysterious cloud. It was still there, flying like a loose kite against the tide.
Rain pelted her pale skin as her thoughts twisted and turned. Today, she had a test waiting for her, but was school worth it? The suffocating classroom walls made her feel caged. She rarely stayed awake in class and hadn't seen anything better than a C grade in years.
"That's it," she murmured, stopping in her tracks.
With a sharp turn, she faced the horizon. The decision was made. It was time to rebel, to break free, to chase the cloud. The storm loomed ahead, but so did the promise of freedom, and Isra's heart burned with defiance. The asylum could wait.
She broke into a run, her satchel bouncing against her side. Rain poured harder, but she didn't care. Somewhere beyond the hills, beyond the grey and purple skies, the cloud waited. And Isra would follow it.