Chester And The Lightning

A wave struck the side of the pier. The whole walkway shuddered.

Chester stopped.

Ahead, one of the lamps swung from its bent pole. Beyond it, a section of railing leaned toward the water. The pier groaned beneath him, a deep wooden complaint that he felt through the soles of his shoes.

“Please hold together,” he whispered.

He moved faster.

The board under his right foot snapped with a sharp crack. His leg dropped through the gap, and cold water surged around his calf. Chester grabbed the railing with both hands. The metal was slick and icy. He pulled, but his trapped foot scraped against broken wood.

“Come on!”

He yanked again. Pain shot up his shin. The rain blurred the shore behind him, turning the lights into pale smears.

A wave slammed below. The broken board shifted, pinning his ankle tighter.

Chester clenched his teeth and looked down. Dark water churned beneath the pier. Each wave lifted pieces of driftwood and sent them banging against the supports. If he lost his grip, he would fall straight through.

The thunder came closer.

He tried to reach his phone, but his pocket was soaked shut. He twisted, tugged, and finally dragged it free. The screen lit for half a second before going black.

“Perfect.”

The pier lurched again.

Chester’s shoulder struck the railing. His hands slipped, and one knee hit the boards. The metal scraped his palm. He felt the broken board loosen around his leg, but not enough to free him.

A flash whitened the harbor.

For a moment, he saw everything clearly: the bent lamp, the flooded planks, the black clouds boiling overhead, and the far end of the pier buckling where the waves struck it. The image vanished as quickly as it came.

The next thunderclap shook his ribs.

Chester pulled until his ankle came free. He rolled onto his back, gasping, and kicked the broken board aside. His leg throbbed, but it worked.

He pushed himself up.

The path to shore was blocked by a fallen section of railing. The metal had torn loose and lay across the walkway, its sharp end hooked into the boards. Chester grabbed it and pulled. It did not move.

“Move!” he shouted at it.

The wind answered with a howl.

He tried from another angle, bracing one foot against the railing post. The metal groaned but held. Behind him, the pier gave a long, splintering creak.

Chester looked over his shoulder.

A support beam had cracked beneath the walkway. One end dropped toward the water. The pier was coming apart from the far end inward.

He pulled harder.

His palms burned. The railing shifted an inch, then stopped. Water rushed over his shoes. The boards tilted toward the harbor.

Chester’s breath caught.

He could leave the railing and run. Maybe he could climb over it. Maybe he could reach the next section before the pier collapsed. But if he slipped, there would be nothing between him and the waves.

Another flash lit the clouds, closer than the last.

“Think,” Chester said.

He planted both feet, wrapped his hands around the cold metal, and leaned back with all his strength. The railing tore free from one of its bolts. Chester stumbled backward, dragging it across the boards.

For one hopeful second, the path opened.

Then the loose railing caught around his ankle.

He fell hard.

His head struck the wood. White sparks burst across his vision. The railing twisted, trapping his leg again. He reached for the nearest post, but his fingers slid through rainwater.

The pier dropped beneath him.

Chester screamed.

A wave exploded against the side. Spray swept over the walkway, freezing his face and filling his mouth with salt. The railing jerked tight around his ankle, and his body slid toward the broken edge.

He clawed at the boards. His fingernails caught in a crack. The water below roared louder than the thunder.

“Hold on,” he told himself. “Hold on.”

A lamp above him flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then every light on the pier went bright white.

Chester looked up.

The storm had become a single enormous shape overhead, lit from within. Veins of light crawled through the clouds. The hairs on his arms rose. A sharp metallic taste filled his mouth, and the air around him began to buzz.

The railing vibrated beneath his hands.

Chester tried to pull away, but his fingers would not release it.

“No,” he whispered.

The sky split open.

Lightning struck the top of the lamp pole.

The sound arrived with the light, a violent crack that seemed to tear through Chester’s bones. The current raced down the metal, jumped to the railing, and poured into him.

His back arched.

Every muscle locked. His hands burned white. The world vanished into a roaring field of blue and gold. He saw the pier, the clouds, and the harbor all at once, as though they had been drawn in lines of fire.

Then the light drove through his chest.

Chester could not breathe. He could not hear his own scream. His body lifted from the boards, held for one impossible moment in the storm.

A thought flashed through him.

I’m going to die.

The current released him.

He slammed onto the pier.

Rain struck his face. Thunder rolled away across the harbor. For several seconds, Chester lay still, staring at the swinging lamp above him.

It had gone dark.

He waited for pain.

There was plenty of it, but not the pain he expected. His skin prickled from scalp to fingertips. His chest rose and fell in short, shaking breaths. His ears rang.

He flexed one hand.

A thin blue spark snapped between his fingers.

Chester froze.

The spark vanished.

He raised his hand closer to his face. Rainwater ran down his wrist. Another spark leaped from his thumb to his palm, bright enough to cast a tiny shadow across the boards.

“What…”

His voice came out rough.

He pushed himself upright. The railing that had trapped him lay beside his leg, blackened along one edge. Smoke curled from the metal despite the rain.

Chester stared at it.

He touched the boards to steady himself.

A burst of light jumped from his palm.

The pier lamp nearest him exploded.

Glass scattered across the wet walkway. Chester jerked backward, throwing up both hands. Blue-white threads snapped from his fingertips to the railing, dancing across the metal before disappearing into the rain.

“No. No, no, no.”

He scrambled away from the railing. His ankle struck a board, and another flash burst from his heel. The broken lamp farther down the pier flickered, glowed, and died.

The storm pressed around him, but something inside Chester answered it.

Every thunderclap seemed to vibrate beneath his skin. Each flash in the clouds pulled at his hands. He could feel the electricity in the pier’s wires, the faint current in the dead lamps, the restless charge gathering overhead.

He curled his fingers into fists.

The sparks grew brighter.

Chester forced his hands against his chest. The light crawled over his knuckles, thin as threads. It hurt - not like a burn, but like pressure building behind his bones.

He stood too quickly and nearly fell. The pier shifted beneath him again. The far end collapsed with a crash, boards dropping into the water one after another.

Chester looked toward shore.

The path was open, but the storm had torn away half the walkway behind him. The only way back was forward.

He limped toward land.

Each step made the pier lights stutter. When his shoe struck a puddle, blue rings spread across the water. Chester stopped, staring at the ripples. The glow faded, leaving only rain and darkness.

He took another step.

A spark jumped from his hand to the railing.

The railing flashed.

Chester recoiled. The metal bent with a sharp pop, as if struck by a hammer.

He backed away from it, breathing hard.

“What happened to me?”

No answer came. Only thunder.

He ran.

The pier shook under his feet. Behind him, more boards broke loose and fell into the harbor. Chester vaulted the fallen railing, landed badly, and kept moving. His injured ankle screamed, but the storm’s strange energy pushed through him, making his limbs feel both weak and charged.

The shore grew closer.

At the final stretch, a gap split the walkway where the waves had torn away several boards. Chester stopped at its edge. Black water churned below. The gap was too wide to step over, and the remaining boards trembled beneath his weight.

He looked at his hands.

Blue light pulsed beneath his skin.

Chester swallowed. He did not know what the light wanted. He did not know if he could control it. But behind him, the pier was collapsing, and ahead of him was home.

He crouched and jumped.

For an instant, he was certain he would fall.

His hands flew forward.

Lightning burst from his palms.

The flash struck the metal rail on the opposite side. Chester’s body jerked toward it. He landed hard on the far boards, skidding on his knees. The spark vanished, but the railing glowed red where the current had hit.

Chester stared at his hands.

Then the last pier lamp went out.

Darkness swallowed Bellweather Pier. The harbor disappeared. The storm became a wall of rain, and Chester stood alone on the shaking walkway, sparks leaping from his fingers into the night.

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters and about 9,551 words in the full book.