Once, there was a small house in the forest. It was covered in moss and made of old wood. You’d never see anyone go in or out and all was quiet in the clearing in which it sat. The only sign that anyone lived there was a thick plume of smoke that rose from a stone chimney. Wind blew the trees around the clearing making the leaves fall and trees swish but the house stayed silent. If you’d looked through the thick glass windows you’d have seen a cosy room with a warm sofa and a rocking chair, a small table, and book shelf, all lit by the glow of an orange fire. You would have seen the old rocking chair moving slowly back and forth but no one sitting in it. But there was someone there. It was old Mother Storm knitting a cloud blanket for her Storm Child asleep up stairs. If you’d have kept watching you’d have seen the wind outside die down and all become perfectly still. The old wooden door would have quietly blown open and shut again. What you would not be able to see was Father Storm slowly trudge in, looking weathered after another long day of storm making. You would not see him kiss his wife on the cheek. You would not see him slowly climb the stairs and open the door to his Storm Child’s room. You would not see him quietly cross the carpeted floor to plant a breathy kiss on the top of his Child’s head and gently lay the new cloud blanket over the Child before releasing the old one back out the window. You wouldn’t be able to see it but that was what he did, every night. Until one night.
Two children were lost in the forest, a brother and sister. By chance they stumbled upon the clearing. They were cold and hungry and when they saw the smoke curling out of the cabin they decided to go see if they could sit by a fire and possibly get something to eat. As they approached they saw a curious thing– a small cloud slowly floating out of an upstairs window. There was a tree nearby so they climbed it wanting to see what was upstairs. As they peaked into the window, clinging to the tree, they saw a bed covered by a cloud that slowly rose and fell as if someone was sleeping under it. Being curious children they climbed in through the window. At once the Storm Child woke up but, of course, they couldn’t see. “Who are you?” the Storm Child asked. The children weren’t scared so they answered.
“My names is Anger and this is my sister Hate. Who are you?”
“I am the Storm Child, what are you doing in my bedroom?”
“We got lost and saw you house.”
“There was a cloud coming out your window,” added Hate.
“That was last night’s blanket,” explained the Storm Child.
“You sleep with a cloud?”
“Yes, of course, would you like to feel this one?” The children got up and touched the cloud being held out to them by invisible hands.
“So soft,” giggled Anger. !
“Like a marshmallow,” said Hate.
“Don’t you have parents who will be worried about you?”
! “No,” said Hate, “our parents are stuck in a box somewhere.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” said Anger cheerfully, “we live with our Aunt Envy.”
“But we ran away,” said Hate.
“Why?” Asked the Storm Child.
“Because it’s our birthday tomorrow,” sighed Hate.
“And we have to start working on our birthday,” explained Anger.
“What do you have to do?”
“Bring Hate and Anger to the world,” said Hate.
“What does that mean?” Asked the Storm Child.
“That’s the problem,” said Anger, “we don’t know yet.”
“I suppose we’ll have to make it up as we go along,” shrugged Hate.
“But that’s why we ran away, because we don’t want to grow up and have to work.”
“It sounds hard,” said the Storm Child who would also one day have to take over for Father Storm. “I don’t want to grow up either.”
“We should run away together!” Said Hate and Anger excitedly. The Storm Child agreed and threw off the cloud blanket.
The three climbed back out the window, down the tree and made their way back towards the woods. But the Storm Child wasn’t supposed to leave the clearing and as soon as the three stepped out of the clearing the Storm Child scattered into millions pieces. Before the children knew what happened a gust of wind took the pieces and scattered them all about the world. A few pieces swirled into the hair of the boy and girl and their minds became stormy and they shouted with Anger and Hate at each other before storming off. They went home to their Auntie and the next day, on their birthday, they indeed went out into the world and spread their Hate and Anger fueled by the Storm Child. As other pieces of the Storm Child settled about the Earth they landed on people. From then on those people carried the pieces inside them. But a piece of a Storm is not something for a human to have and it clouded their minds and gusted coldly into their hearts. And because Anger and Hate were the first to feel that way, the feelings were named after them. Of course the next day Mother and Father Storm found their Child was gone and were heart broken. They abandoned their cosy home to look for their lost Child. So when you hear the wind raging about your house or rain pelting your windows, it’s Father and Mother Storm searching, calling, and crying for their Storm Child. But you can help; when the weather turns mean out and you feel stormy inside step outside, under the rough sky and take three, long, deep, breaths. Breath out you Hate and Anger. You will feel a weight leave your chest, that’s your bit of Storm Child escaping, it doesn’t want to be inside of you anymore than you want it. Send it up into the wind and back to its parents where it belongs.