Open up the sky over me. Please.

Lightning strikes and I feel the ground tremble. I take it to mean that I'm near the heart of the storm. The winds pick up and swirl debris around me. I feel tension. The centre of the storm is over me and the tension moves to my heart. I'm not sure what is about to happen. I'm not even sure what is happening right now. I'm scared. I am threatened. The tension moves to my muscles and skin. I do not like feeling threatened. Awaiting the fatal strike is not what I want to be doing. Winds pick up inside my mind and my lungs. I yell. I yell at the sky,
 "What do you want?"
The clouds continue to linger and swell. Is it possible that I reached them? I dismiss this notion, because why would the sky pay any attention to me? Why would the Gods be affected by this one mortal man.
 "Leave me alone," I yell. Using words confuses me. What I am feeling does not seem to be easily vocalised. I yell. I yell nothing, but pour my soul into doing it. My lungs are shotgun barrels and I am emptying everything into the sky, reloading and emptying my lungs again. Even as my throat lacerates with hoarseness, I continue to reload and empty.
 Even if the storm passes, I'm not sure I'll stop yelling.

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