When The Sky Throws A Tantrum
When The Sky Throws A Tantrum2 mins 349 2 mins 349
It was late in the night when the fine drizzle sped up into a downpour. Not long after, the sky rumbled angrily and stark white fingers rushed towards the ground to raze the trees, followed by a booming clap of thunder. The wind howled loudly, toying with the plastic chairs in the driveway, like a cat with a mouse. It smashed them against the porch and the rain lashed against the windows with a fury akin to a woman scorned. A large tree was mercilessly uprooted and it plummeted towards the ground, crashing loudly.
The house creaked and groaned like rusted machinery as the wind tugged and pulled to no avail. Now enraged, it settled with uprooting yet another tree, the branches snapping as it landed in the yard. The clouds roared again, spitting out a torrent of water and the crackling lightning that ensued seemed to split the sky into fragments. It was a miracle that the lights were still working, I thought.
However, after the third clap of thunder, the lights went out and I could vaguely hear the sound of metal colliding with tarmac over the storm. It was impossible for my parents to come home tonight, if only they had checked the forecast before leaving like I had asked them to. Not wanting to listen to the wind shrieking, I put on my headphones and burrowed into bed.
Not long after, a warm body jumped on top of me, wriggling inside my covers before squeezing me with surprising strength. It was my younger brother Rory and his dinosaur soft toy, which was shoved against my face.
“I am scared, brother”, he whispered against my ear.
“Don’t worry, the sky is just throwing a tantrum, nothing more”, I said, spitting out synthetic fur before pushing the toy away.
And I left him hug me for the rest of the night while the wind wailed outside the window and the rain battered against the panes.