Cleopatra’s Storm.

The long night bled into the morning, and I awoke to the sun high in the sky. It was nice to sleep late; I'd spent most of the last night with the stars and a blood-red moon. I rolled out of bed, and my feet cooled against the polished concrete.

I pulled my silk robe from its perch on the headboard and slipped it on my naked body. Today would be another scorcher.

I had come to this island months ago and built this stone and concrete house.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown is a phrase that I knew all too well and one that I did not want to fulfill. I used to be a princess before I came to this place. I was to ascend and rule over a vast queendom, but I rejected it all. I absconded and loved this new feeling. My neck no longer supporting a head that felt impossible to hold. I no longer awoke to talk of wars and suitors and intrigue.

There has always been and will always be an obsession with royalty. I, however, looked up to the farmers, those who study the skies, physicsand the oceans, the people of and from the earth. The one's who sustained life.

I breathed in the island air and looked out the window at the ocean over the tops of coconut trees.

All was peaceful and calm, and the water sparkled like diamonds in the distance.

The island was inhabited, the natives, solitary and insular. I had paid handsomely for this land, and they'd laughed for no one wanted it. My house was built up in the rocky highlands filled with ugly orange snakes.

It was more relaxed on the coast, where most of the natives dwelled. I was okay with this; I preferred to burn than to sink than to be weighed down by anything.

I left my queendom on the eve of my 18th birthday, and now I was 20. The journey here had been one of freedom from a life shackled by tradition.

The night I left, the moon was high, and the waves calm just as my teachers had taught me it should be in that dry, hot season.

And so I'd left crawling on my belly like an ugly orange snake, and then I had sailed for months with friends, those who wanted a new life as much as I did.

We'd adjusted well to this new land. It was easy in such a beautiful place with no expectations. The ground seemed to give and give with no expectations but steady rain after the dry season and the gentle sharing of our lives.

I boiled a few cinnamon sticks in a pot over a small fire surrounded by stones then sat on the verandah to slowly savor the sweetness.

When I finished the tea, I headed down the mountain towards the beach. It was the dry season, and vibrant pink, yellow and red flowers adorned the path.

When I reached the ocean, the sun was already blistering the leaves and piercing fallen mangos.

I quickly disrobed and sunk into the warm water. The water caressed me, and I leisurely cast a glance towards the horizon. In the distance, a ship sailed.

In an instant, I was on my feet; those sails belonged to the queendom I had left. They wouldn't dare, would they? Was I so valuable to their plans that they would risk their lives to sail this late in the season when storms were a weekly occurrence?

I thought about last night's sky and the alignment of the stars; a storm was due any day now. This arrogance and lack of respect for life was another reason I detested them, but here they were in a reckless display of their audacity.

Two more ships appeared, and I ran from the water. I quickly tied the robe around my body, and it promptly melded to my skin.

The natives had gathered to watch the ships now.

“You,” their eyes said, “You brought them here!”

I ran past them and up to my house on the mountain.

My people were roused, and we conferred as we watched the steady approach of the ships, now numbering five.

There were two options flee or stay and fight. I did not want to bring violence to this island and people who had sheltered me, nor did I want to leave.

I thought back to the previous night; I had charted the night's sky and felt the heavy moon; a storm was coming. The ships were still a day or so away. There was time.

I would wait and try to summon the storm; if I were unsuccessful, I would row out to the ships and surrender.

I walked outside and climbed a mango tree. I sat in a branch and plucked a firm yellow mango.

I bit into the top and spat the skin over the branches. I leaned back against the trunk my legs straddling a thick branch that was rough against my bare thighs.

The Valley and beach stretched out below me.

I looked up at the sky; there was a solitary cloud, stagnant in the blue sky.

I took another bite of the mango and then screamed at the sky.

Another cloud appeared.

I screamed again, more clouds appeared.

I looked to the horizon, and a waterspout was forming; I hurled insults and curses at the ships, and the funnel grew until its bottom danced in the ocean and its top kissed the sky.

I sucked my mango and started intently at the horizon.

The funnel dashed towards the ships; our half of the sky stayed blue while the half inhabited by the vessel and the ocean steadily turned shades of purple and blue.

The water spout sucked one ship into oblivion then another until there were no ships in my vision. I dropped the mango seed to the ground and scrambled out of the tree.

I rushed down the side of the mountain once more.

Everyone had gathered along the water's edge; they started in amazement towards the horizon.

As I walked towards them, they turned to me; I met the chief's eyes, I saw a flicker of recognition, and I watched the tremble of his hands.

He started to bow, No!" I silently whispered to him.

I pointed to the sky and walked towards the ocean again.

I was free.