The storm started at sea. A little wind, lifting a little wave. Unnoticed. Unremarkable.
Dave couldn’t find his other sock. Couldn’t find any of his other socks. He held at least ten socks in his hand and not a single one was part of a pair. Yesterday’s socks lay on the floor. He couldn’t decide whether to wear odd socks or dirty socks.
The first drop of rain splashed with barely a ripple.
No one noticed the odd socks. Why would they? The only difference between the pair were the colours on the toes and the heel. Unless he took his shoes off the two looked identical. And anyway his feet were safely tucked under his desk. Maybe he should wear odd socks every day. Somehow it felt rebellious.
A dolphin leapt. The storm tried to catch it, lift it, play with it. The dolphin sliced through, landed and leapt again.
Dave wondered if anyone would notice the odd words he’d snuck into his printer review. He was proud of using the word quire. It was the perfect word. The printer really couldn’t handle more than two dozen sheets of paper. Imperious certainly wasn’t a word he’d ever written before but the odd socks gave him an unusual freedom and the printer control system really did seem to think it was the boss.
Converging winds stroked the warm surface of the sea and fed the storm a harvest of moist air. The storm gained substance and strength and it lifted clouds higher into the darkening sky.
Dave opened the email and read through the edits suggested by his supervisor. As always there were a few typos and differences of opinon about the correct order of words. Unusually there was a splash of colour. A whole block highlighted in yellow.
It didn’t take long for Dave to respond. He deleted the offending paragraph and replaced it with something much more graphic. Much more dynamic. Much more colourful. And perhaps, if he’d stopped to think for a moment, something much more inaccurate.
The storm was tagged and analysed. It won just enough respect to earn a name. It was watched but was of little concern.
Dave’s supervisor liked the new revised version. It had energy and emotion she hadn’t expected. The technical details were swept up in opinions. She hesitated for a moment and then approved. Dave’s notification pinged. Another article accepted. Another credit in his bank account.
A trawler bucked under the storms embrace. It was stronger than the radio had led the captain to believe. He smiled at his hardy boat and efficient crew calmly navigate through the storm’s added spice.
Another ping. The article had found a second home. Dave smiled. Two for the price of one. A pair. Two cheques that almost matched. The second pleasingly larger than the first.
An automated buoy bounced high enough to squawk and its signal landed with a heavy thud. The storm was upgraded. Its scrutiny intensified.
Overnight the comments multiplied. Likes and dislikes fought for dominance. Dave was called into a meeting space. He crossed his legs to hide the obvious differences between his socks. The supervisor was encouraging. Reactions were what they wanted. The article was moving higher up the food chain. Advertising revenue increased with each click. Differences helped boost the debate. Negative comments often produced higher rewards.
There was no danger to life but the strong winds could cause disruption. Travel plans could not be relied upon and picnics in parks were cancelled. Washing lines emptied and flocks of plastic bags blossomed on bushes.
A second, more urgent meeting took place online. Dave’s intervention was needed. There was no danger to life but some of the comments could cause damage. Dave sifted and deleted, redirected and replied. Multiple threads burst into life. Both his screens filled as he followed each path, jumping from topic to topic to douse the flames.
The storm welcomed an unusual confluence and swelled in size. Trains stopped. Lorries tipped. Power lines faltered and scores of umbrellas turned inside out.
Dave directed his new team as the ramifications of his article spread. A legal challenge was diverted. Words were reinterpreted and their meanings reversed. An angry mob of online trolls were apparently appeased and for a moment all was calm. Dave looked up and noticed the dark brooding sky.
The storm cast its eye on the block where Dave was sitting. It caught his glance and smirked as he typed.
Dave stretched his legs out with his odd socks showing proudly above his sensible shoes and typed his second article full of wild views and speculations.
The eye passed and the storm renewed its attack. Roofs lifted. Trees fell. Floods almost gained the upper ground but were held back by hasty defence.
Wild words fell and bounced back even wilder. Dave’s team fought the online flood with reason, and with sprinklings of doubt. They poked and provoked and stirred things up. They surfed the high waves and glided in the strong winds.
With a final tear, a single drop of rain that caused barely a ripple, the storm passed.
Dave was exhilarated as he stepped into the shop. His bank balance was higher than it had ever been, but all he bought were ten pairs of different socks. He took one sock from each pair. held them up to the sky and let the wind take them.
Odd Socks is the title story in volume #2 of my Take Five short story collections. You can buy the collection here: https://www.peter-richardson.co.uk/TakeFive/