Tonight is the night. I never dreamt it would be so soon, on the eve of my eighteenth birthday. But it IS tonight, I’m sure of that. It’s my calling. I came to this place to finish my work, previously started and as yet incomplete. The unfinished symphony in D.

The moment needs to be timed just right, timed perfectly. Otherwise I fail miserably and there’ll be no turning back and no other way. Time to think before then, though, contemplating.

It was a year ago, same place, same time, same day, exactly to the letter. I know because I checked my diary. And the newspaper articles. My family don’t know about those – they’re my little secret, my obsession.

Isaak and I were celebrating in our usual way – walking and talking whatever the weather. That evening was no exception to the rule; what began as a glorious summer’s day turned into the heaviest downpour I’d ever encountered. Nevertheless, we wandered the streets of our little seaside town, a beautiful place and free of tourists for the month. Then, the storm started.

I freaked. Lost control of my faculties almost. I would have gone slowly mad had Isaak not been there.

“What’s the matter, Lees?”

“Storms. I hate them. They… scare me.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a load of natural electricity, that’s all!” As a large roll of thunder rumbled ominously through the sky, I trembled and backed against a wall, where I stared, wide-eyed like a terrified Jackrabbit.

“Isaak, take me home. Please.” He took my hand and put his arm around my shoulders. Then he manoeuvred me in the opposite direction to my house. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?” He said nothing but carried on dragging me.

Eventually, we reached the roof of a derelict, condemned hotel, a centre-piece of grandeur in its day, the highest building around, now fallen totally to disrepair.

“You get a great view from here,” he said. “Come sit down.” I joined him on the edge of the building. It was midnight and there was nobody else around. We were the King and Queen of the Universe. The sea was calm. A bright flash of forked lightning came down, seemingly onto the cliffs on our right. Three seconds later, another crash. “See, it’s going already.” I nodded. God knows how long we sat there.

The roof of the hotel was adorned with a large radio aerial; I was decidedly worried about it. Isaak was not. In fact he was examining it with some interest. His scientific brain was never occupied for long enough, not even by me. Still, we had something going, although it was difficult to establish the depth of our ‘friendship’. It was that sort of situation.

He mooched around aimlessly in the debris, only to emerge holding half of a mangled, rusty old wire coat-hanger. He held it up triumphantly to show me.

"I can use this for that experiment I'm working on. What a stroke of luck!"

“Hey, Isaak, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Relax, Lees. The storm’s passed.” It was true. It had.

Famous last words.

I’ve come back to the place I’ve been having nightmares about for months. All the memories are still here: the white and blue police tape, the mouldy, half-eaten sandwiches that used to belong to one of the policemen, carelessly disposed of on the roof, that now even the birds won’t touch, and that white painted outline. I’ve brought one thing with me – half a wire coat hanger, which I took away before they cleared the area, aerial and all.

I’m dressed all in black, but I don’t know why. I have done ever since that night, as though something changed in me. I never would have worn anything like this before. Maybe I’m mourning, maybe, just for today, it was so nobody would see me. The lightning reflects off my white face in the darkness – white from the make-up, but dark around the eyes and deep black lips. Isaak would have called me a punk and been impressed by my courage to wear it.

Storms still terrify me, but the feeling’s deeper. Indescribable. Every strike of lightning makes my heart beat faster. It may soon fly out of my chest at this rate – the only part of Lisa that stills exists. The peals of thunder torment my head, my ears, and send a tingle down my spine. This is what it’s like to stare terror in the face – EXHILERATING! I know what I’m wearing – it’s my death shroud, and I’ve got one chance only to do this right. Just one chance.

And half a wire coat-hanger…