The Storm

Just as short I wrote when I couldn't sleep because of ... guess what ... a thunderstorm!

The glowing hands of the clock read quarter past two.  But even at two in the morning she was still awake, the light off and sitting curled up in the darkness.  She watched the flashes and counted the seconds until the thunder boomed across the night sky.

Slowly breathing in and out, she told herself it was OK, the storm couldn't hurt her.  But as the number of seconds between the blinding flash of lightning and the crash of thunder grew smaller and smaller she began to panic.

The storm grew closer and closer, until it was right ontop of her, the rain slashing down on the house and the thunder and lightning were almost simaltaneous.  She shivered in her bed, clutching the bedclothes tightly around her, like they would protect her from the force of nature that was assaulting her house.

Fear bubbled up inside her as the thunder reached a deafening crescendo, the raindrops hammering on the roof drowned out by the roar.

But as soon as it had begun, it was over.  The rain remained, splashing heavily on the roof, but there were no other signs of the drama that had just taken place, only the girl, curled into a ball on her bed, the bedsheets a mess around her.

Her eyes were shut and her chest steadily rose and fell.  In sleep she looked so peaceful, as if she had not been scared only moments before.

The End

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