Thunder claps filled the silent air. It was thick, still, and dry, the alarming sounds the only thing that showed there was any movement at all. The thunder was steady, each roar separated by the space of five breaths. Not that there was anything on the land below to breathe.
The clouds swirled around each other, painting the sky in every shade of grey imaginable. Beans of sunlight somehow found their way through the dark expanse of sky, and turned the greys into yellows, oranges, reds, purples and blues. It might have been called beautiful, had there been anything below to call it that.
It was a long time before the rain began to fall. The wind whipped up a hurricane that was loud enough to block out even the furious thunder. It blew the dust up off the barren ground and unearthed rocks that had been hidden beneath.
Craters were formed, and the rain collected in them to make the first oceans. The thunder and the storms fought for dominance, both trying to get the upper hand, until at last they became almost indistinguishable from one another.
They continued to cause chaos, to change the shape of the land and fill the world with noise. That was all they needed to do in the beginning. And eventually, the first signs of life emerged, born into the wild noise and crazy exuberance of the storms.
Which might help to explain why there’s a bit of madness in all of us.