For as long as I can remember, I have been captivated by clouds. No doubt this love was greatly enhanced by the fact that I grew up in the American Midwest, where some of the most spectacular cloud formations in the world are the daily norm. Hours upon hours of my childhood and teen years were devoted to lying on the ground or sitting on a high vantage point, watching everything from cotton puffs to monstrous storm cells move overhead.

Charles tightened his hold on his pistol grip; blood was making his fingers slip.
Sprawled on the rain-soaked floorboards of the now roofless building, water pelted down in apathetic torrents over his defeated figure.
The heat from the burning house around him made the numerous cuts and wounds on his body sting, the blaze illumkinating both him and the tall man standing across the room. "You thought you could go on, have a life?" the menacing voice echoed in Charles' ears.

Just a bit of craziness. ;)
Inspired by Sir Lot of Orknay and Lothian (wasn't he in the King Arthur legends? Anyway, I saw the names and thought they were funny.)

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Sir Lot of Orknay
Was a very strange fellow
His beard, it was black
But his hair, it was yellow

Sir Lot of Lothian
(And yes, this is true)
His eyes, they were pink
But his teeth, they were blue

Nobody had beat him
To this very day
For when anyone saw him
They fainted away

'Twas a dark gray night on the old North Shore
- And the wind and the waves were wild -
That the black-caped traveler came to her door
And begged to rest a while.

An hour's rest from the savage wind
She dared deny no man,
So graciously she asked him in
To sit and warm his hands.

She stirred the fire and bade him sit
Before the merry blaze.
Sit he did, and stared at it
With a lost and distant gaze.