This is an entry for Finish the Story Contest - WEEK #23.
Here is 
The bedroom was a sealed Fort Knox. An old black fan stood in a corner: the last bulwark of defence against the terrible heat of that day of August. The heat from its engine was exceeding by far the supposed cool that it should have been producing from the movement of the scorching air.
"... I'm going down to the store to help mum."
"Recently, the young dandy is getting his ass busy."
"You could do something too, every now and then," Santiago thought, managing to keep his mouth with a bridle at the very last moment. "There is an article on the International on how bad news are preferred to positive ones and their effects on society," he chose instead to answer.
But the 15:00 news were now efficiently irrigating the paternal synapses and absorbing his whole focus. "After 3 months from their first appearance, the research on cumuloids continues by the international expert pool led by Dr. Venters. All the analyses confirm that their molecular composition is not different from that of any other type of cloud: minute particles of condensed water and / or ice crystals. In the meantime, yesterday, the United Nations Security Council unanimously approved the resolution requesting the member states of..."
"Chemtrails were not enough, eh Tiago?"
"I do not know, I try not to look at them. Those faces in the sky might also be harmless but they frighten me," Santiago cut short.
The quasi-dialogue would have certainly not produced anything positive in its prolonging, thought the twelve year old son. On board of his Zanella Motoneta, Santiago darted away from home, heading for the beach.
Down there, among the umbrellas reserved for the guests of the Los Reyes hotel, there were Vicky's deep black eyes waiting for him. Maybe today they could have been alone, maybe there between the waves or under the umbrella, he would have finally told her words that, for long days, had been banging in his head like the ocean's backwash.
He still thought of those enigmatic clouds, the cumuloids, whose immense faces had formed and flaked in the skies for months now. With no exception, their eyes were covered and they displayed a subtle smile, similar to that of those Greek statues he saw in one of the rare occasions he opened his school books.
"What an idiot." Two rosy dawns light up on Vicky's cheeks to contradict the apparently cynical exclamation.
In front of her, two hearts drawn with a wooden stick on the sand of the shore with their initials inside. Tiago floundering.
A sharp cry pierces the silence. Dazed looks of the two twelve-year-olds jumping first on Vicky's younger sister, then, through the kid’s expression of terror, bouncing on the celestial vault behind them.
A cumuloid, alone, stands out clearly in a fake turquoise sky like the wing of a theatre stage. There is no trace of a kouros smile on the gargantuan cloud, which now seems about to drift on the sea shore. The ivory jaws widens deformed, vomiting a myriad of other faces. Distorted mutations depart ferociously from the obscene atmospheric funnel just to pierce back the smooth nimbus' face, devouring its ephemeral flesh.
Time slows down around Tiago and Vicky, holding hands together without even realizing it.
And this is my ending:
The cumuloid loomed closer, slowly zooming in on the beach. His yawning maw opened further, revealing smaller hungry faces surrounding a spot like the eye of a hurricane.
Tiago forced his eyes closed. "Don't look," he said. He could feel Vicky's hand shaking and glanced to the side. She was trembling, her pupils small and unfocused.
He fully turned to her and repeated: "Vicky! Don't look." She held his gaze for a brief second, then was drawn again to the sky behind him. Her mouth half-opened in horror. The words broke free from Tiago's mind. "Ilikeyou," he said hurriedly and then kissed her.
Tiago held the kiss as long as he could. Then furiously hoping he hadn't ruined everything forever, he pulled slightly away, so that their noses were almost touching. Huge black eyes met his. She was biting her lip, and thinking. From his experience with womankind, Tiago understood he had better say something and fast.
"My grandma says," he started, feeling the lamest boy in the universe, "never to look at scary things. It gives them power over you."
That wasn't what she expected to hear. "Your... Grandma."
Tiago nodded, which rubbed their noses together, a new sensation he filed away for later. "Also, if you really have to look, search inside you first, find your courage, stand your ground. Then look."
Tiago pointed up with his finger, and in unison, they raised their gaze.
The cloud-face was smiling, serenely floating in the turquoise vastness. There was no trace of its previous grotesque visage. On the beach, Vicky's sister had resumed working on her sand castle.
"Santiago Ramiro Torres," Vicky said, a half-grin forming on her lovely face, "did your grandmother just solve the mystery of the cumuloids?"
"She knows all about spooks and ghosts," answered Tiago, beaming. "Taught me spells too."
"Should we tell anyone?"
"About what?"
"That the cumuloids aren't up there," Vicky touched her own temple, "but rather in here."
Tiago shrugged. "That's where everything magical is. The scientists will figure it out. I wouldn't bother."
She still had his hand firmly in hers. "So, about this witchcraft," Vicky gestured to the hearts in the sand. "Is this another one of your grandmother's tricks?"
Tiago's cheeks reddened. "Sorry aboumpf--"
She was kissing him.
It tasted of perfection.
The scientists, indeed, figured it out. Dr. Venters could prove that the same cumuloid was pictured differently by fully isolated observers. The phenomenon was termed mass psychosomatic anomaly, prompting further studies in group perception and psychiatry.
As the climate changed dramatically, some said the cumuloids were the clouds paying their respects before disappearing. They called it 'last summer' because winter would never come after. Earth became arid and far crueler.
For two kids, those eventful days were spent on a scooter, and finding minutes of blissful privacy inside beach locker rooms, under piers, behind reefs. Vicky's holidays would only last two more weeks, but when you're twelve, and in love, two weeks is a lifetime.
