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It was a warm Saturday afternoon. I was home alone, as my
parents had gone to visit my grandmother. Having just completed my school
project, I decided to unwind on the veranda outside my room. The sky above was a
clear, brilliant blue, scattered with white, puffy clouds drifting lazily
across. Though there was no sign of rain, I felt sticky all over, even though
the fan had been blowing at full blast earlier.
Suddenly, I heard a faint rumble of thunder in the distance. A small squirrel
darted up the tree beside the veranda, distracting me from the ominous sound.
But soon, the low rumble grew louder and more distinct. A little uneasy, I went
downstairs and told the maid to bring in the laundry, just in case the weather
turned.
Without warning, the sky darkened. Angry grey clouds rushed across the horizon,
swallowing the sunlight in a matter of minutes. A sudden gust of cold wind
whooshed past me, stinging my cheeks. The breeze quickly became a strong wind,
whipping the blinds on the veranda and sending shivers down my spine.
As I stood to return to my room, a pale flash of lightning streaked across the
sky, casting eerie shadows along the veranda walls. Moments later, thunder
roared overhead, as if the sky itself were groaning in protest. The whole house
creaked and moaned, reacting to the fury outside.
Then I saw it—a white curtain of rain sweeping rapidly across the neighborhood.
Within seconds, it reached the corrugated iron roof above me, pounding it with
such force that it rattled and groaned under the pressure.
The storm was nothing short of ferocious. Trees in the garden bent under the
weight of the rain, their branches swaying wildly. My mother's beloved flowers
were being torn from their stems and scattered to the ground. I tried turning on
the radio to distract myself, but the roar of the rain was so loud that it
drowned out every sound. Defeated, I lay on my bed and waited for the storm to
pass.
For nearly an hour, the thunderstorm raged on. Then, as suddenly as it had come,
it died down. The rain eased into a gentle drizzle. The black clouds slowly
drifted away, and the sky turned blue once more.
Curious, I stepped into the garden to assess the damage. Many of the flowers
were flattened, and a few branches had snapped. Puddles of water dotted the
lawn, and the stone slabs were slick but inviting. As I walked among them, I
breathed in the fresh, rain-washed air. It was cool, crisp, and clean—as if the
downpour had scrubbed the world of all its dust and weariness.
Just as I was about to peek over into my neighbor’s garden to see if they had
suffered similar damage, the shrill ring of the telephone startled me. My maid
called out—it was my mother, checking in to see if I was all right.
I smiled to myself. The storm had passed, and so had the fear. Everything was
calm once more. |
