Thunderstorms and such


The storm whipped the trees outside and she huddled into her quilt, with a smile on her face. Wren loved thunderstorms; they made her feel small and fragile compared to the raw power of Nature. Her parents had taken her young brother to the basement to watch movies and escape the raging storm. She snuggled farther down into the warm blanket, as thunder rumbled outside. She stared through the window, struggling to see the blurred shapes of her front yard through the heavy rain. Her head was resting on the back of the couch she was sitting on and she was nearly asleep. Suddenly, the rain started to pound harder and harder; Wren thought she was dreaming. But the rain kept coming harder and harder, faster and faster. She sat up, very much awake now. Outside, she could no longer make out individual rain drops; it had become a sheet of water smashing into her window. The window was flung open by the wind and knocked Wren over on to her back. It whipped her long brown hair into her eyes and the rain felt like ice on her skin. Wren watched, amazed as the clouds ripped themselves to shreds with the force of the pouring rain. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped pounding her window and the sun began to poke through the ragged clouds.

She sat up and looked out the window once more and was shocked to find that what she was seeing was no longer her front yard, with its two big maple trees, and the street beyond. Instead, she was looking at a field of tall, emerald green grass and beyond that was a dark green wood. Wren looked back behind her. She was still sitting in the living room, on the striped couch that her mother hated so much. But in front her, through the window, was an entirely new world; that much she could tell from the tingly feeling in her blood. Warm air and a cool breeze came flooding through the window that had been forced open. The grass was prickly on her bare feet. She realized that she was barefoot and in her summer pajamas of a t-shirt and shorts. She was sensible enough to know that there was no point in worrying about that now. She would have deal with it as best she could. Wren briefly thought about turning back to get something more suitable for exploration, but realized that she might not get back to wherever she was. She didn’t want whatever was happening to her to end.  

As she looked around, she thought she could see a little path winding away through the trees and into the distance. Wren figured that the path was a good a choice as wandering any other way, so she followed it into the woods.  The soil was cool to her bare toes and the breeze in the leaves of the trees sounded like whispers.

“I wonder where I’ve gotten to…” Wren wondered aloud. Since the whispering trees did not answer, the only thing she could do was to keep going.

The End

9 comments about this story Feed