Into the Eye of Erin

Kill the humans.

I’ve been waiting for this day for a while, when I can finally leave Cape Verde and begin my journey across the ocean. My thunderstorms are currently small and muddled, but they should organize soon, and then I can give the humans a taste of their own medicine.

I move past Cape Verde’s dry islands, thunderstorms trailing behind me, and soon find myself over the deep blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean. I need to get used to this salty scent and hot sun because we’re going to be roommates for a few weeks.

Now, where I go depends on nature, but I want to start in the Caribbean, then move to Florida, and finally travel up the eastern coast of North America. I shouldn’t have trouble intensifying because of how warm the ocean waters are now.

Ah ha—there we go! Warm water and minimal wind shear. My thunderstorms are already starting to develop, but I’m still waiting for that Coriolis effect. The real journey will begin when I start spinning, but while I wait for that magical moment, I watch the ocean below.

It’s empty, just like me, and filled with extra water from the melting icebergs. I remember when it was lively—the days I sailed around the world with my mother and father before I became... well... Erin. But now, the ocean is plagued by the icebergs. Humanity does not deserve mercy for destroying my home.

But wait! What’s that? Is my eye playing tricks on me, or is that a family of loggerheads swimming near the ocean’s surface? I swear I see bony heads and flippers. No, they can’t be. I haven’t seen turtles in ages, not since humans started eliminating their nesting grounds. They don’t have hearts—they wouldn’t save the turtles—but I swear those figures are turtles.

They dip back underwater, and there I am—alone once again. The islands are just specks on the horizon, and the rays from the setting sun cast a lighthouse-like glow on the water. It’s mystical, supernatural, and mysterious—and is something that may help humans change their minds if they admired sunsets more.

I don’t want to do this; I never thought I’d turn to disaster to knock some sense into people, but here I am. Helene gave them a good licking last year. She killed over 200 people, most in North Carolina, and boy, was she proud. I was, too, but looking back on it, I now feel… regret? No, no, Erin, the humans deserved that, and now it’s my turn to follow in my mother’s footsteps.

I push my thoughts aside and start watching the ocean again. There are no more turtles, just me with thoughts I never thought were possible for an Elemental Spirit. We have one job and one job only: protect Earth and not let anyone stand in our way.

We can’t change—we’re locked into our identities, we’re cruel, and most importantly...

We can’t be tamed.