The Power and the Glory
The Power and the Glory
Wind beats heavily at the walls, whistling through the cracks in the weatherboard, hail hammering on the roof while a loud thunderclap rolls away in the distance. A quick flash from the distant lightning pierces the curtains. The old house creaks under the strain as the windows rattle in the gale.
A tree outside my window gives a long, deafening crack as it splits in two, both parts crashing to the ground in a flurry of snapping branches and rustling leaves, thudding deeply when it strikes the mud. I snuggle under my blankets a little more, feeling the entirety of the warmth they offer. Goose bumps still riddle my limbs. My eyes light up with each flash of lightning and thunderous boom, in admiration of the almighty power possessed by Mother Nature.
The beach can be heard faintly over yonder, but is almost silenced by the howling wind. As the sky lights up again in a spectacular blaze of electricity, outrageous fury and raw energy, the crashing waves are visible, barely, through torrential rain, falling almost horizontally.
Soon the storm becomes much closer, the gap between the brilliant flashes of light and the trailing thunderous roar narrowing all the while. My heart races, adrenalin flowing to the outer reaches of my body. I sit awe struck in my bed, clinging tightly to my bundled blankets for warmth, peering through the partially open drapes. My heart skips a beat as the gigantic crash and blinding flash reach me simultaneously. And again, the clouds emit an almighty boom, shaking the house. The bed vibrates beneath me as the storm sits directly overhead.
Slowly the light show fades into the distance. I'm left gripping my pillow, listening to the softer, yet still whistling wind and the gentle pitter-patter of post-storm rain on the old corrugated iron roof.
AW (22/6/00)
