The Storm.

Authors Avatar

The Storm

By Daniel Stickler

     It was a normal mid August afternoon, and as I plodded

along the ordinary, yet somewhat apprehensive North Close,

I knew something was wrong. My insides started to become

tight, and my stomach rolled around and around, as if it was

doing somersaults. I cautiously turned around. Nothing. My

insides were getting tighter, and a sharp pain, as if someone

had thrusted a blunt dagger into my side, started. I fell to

the floor, almost knocked unconscious by the ever

increasing pain. Salty tears rolled down my face, as I

struggled and fought my way to my feet. Suddenly, the sharp

stabbing pains had vanished. Nothing. Again, I turned

around, this time not knowing what, if anything, was behind

me. Again, nothing. I stared at the August sky, and soon

realised that something wasn't right. Those clouds, those big

black malicious looking clouds, growing larger and larger,

spreading left and right, covering every millimetre of the

cobalt blue sky. They were unlike normal clouds. They were a

rich black colour, like the colour of soot, and seemed almost

human-like. My stomach churned again, and the pain

returned, this time, stronger and more painful than before. I

staggered home, tears flowing down my cheeks, and

splashing onto the hard, rocky pavement. I could see my

Join now!

house in the distance. Coloured hay yellow and on the corner

of Colorado Close and Main Street, it was extremely

distinctive, and couldn't be mistaken, although one really

annoying and bothersome drunk continuously argues that it

is a pub. I stopped, just short of the pelican crossing, and

listened. The noticeable rumble of thunder filled the sky, and

a large crack of lightning blasted through the air. A long

pause, so long in fact, that it felt like an eternity. Nothing,

not even the minute sound of a travelling car, or the ...

This is a preview of the whole essay