Storms and Stories

I’ve just seen my first storm of the year which, to me, means it is now officially summer. I am delighted, and in just two weeks I get three entire months of fun (though my parents will probably nag me to get a job). I have a weird relationship with storms, I’m scared of them yet all I want to do is go and dance in the rain as the thunder rumbles around me, I think that’s about as much as my adrenaline junkie side of me can get. All the while I watched this storm my imagination was whirring around like crazy, so I devised a story and wanted to share it with you.


It was around midnight when Peter first heard the loud crack of thunder that shook the walls to his bedroom and, with a start, he woke from his sleep. In the darkness of his bedroom he listened out, ears pricked, for another rumble to roll through the sky. A blue light flashed through the curtains and the boy took the duvet from himself and stood up. His footsteps were muffled by the carpet as he trampled his way around toy aeroplanes and cars to stand at his window and watch the storm. He took his curtain in his hand and slowly drew it back, as the thunder clapped, like he was on a stage and this was the start of the play. 

That very second the curtains were opened fully another strike of white light was tossed from the clouds and fell right in front of Peters eyes. It was blinding and he staggered back from the window in a daze. His heart was racing and he couldn’t tell what sort of adrenaline was being pumped around his veins: thrill or fright. That strike could have hit him and he could have been dead. He thought as much as he stepped back forwards. If it wasn’t for the wall that divided the room from the world he could have been dead. He grew confident that he had a shield. And watched as the lightning flashed and the thunder roared like a giant turbo-jet. 

When he was small his um used to comfort him by saying that if you counted the seconds between the lightning and the thunder that showed you how far away it was and that he should count to see if it is going away. He decided to do it now. The first time the white electricity shot through the sky like a vein he counted to four, but he wasn’t sure if four seconds was far away or not. The second time he counted. One…two…three. It was getting closer. And Peter willed it to go away. The third time he got to two and the fourth time the lightning flew his barely had the time to form ‘one’. The storm was right on top of him. The hairs on his arms stood up with static and adrenaline and the boy revelled in thought. 

Instantly he decided to go outside and he put his little slippers on his feet and quietly opened his bedroom door. He sneaked down the stairs, being careful on the floorboards that creaked when he stood on them, and opened the front door. He heard the rain, beating down on the pavement in front of him like bullets. He stepped outside, his slippers squelched in the rain, soaking in the wet. Peter could now hear sirens wailing about an unknown emergency and he wondered if someone’s house was on fire. Peter was now completely terrified of the chaos around him and lightning and thunder mixed and the whole sky illuminated with every strike. 

For a second Peter stood still, soaking in the rain, playing with the storm. He was playing with his life, too filled with adrenaline to care. Every shot of white light was blinding and his eyes struggled to focus, every roar of thunder was deafening and he failed to hear anything else around him. Not the cars that drove by with their wind-shield wipers swishing from side to side manically as the people inside panicked over the storm, not the sirens that blared in the distance, not his parents calling from the door for him to come inside and get dry. 

Peter laughed manically, the revelry spread through him like a current until he could not contain it and he threw his arms out at the sky and tilted his head back towards the heavens where some mighty being threw down his angry bolts at the world. He thought of how scary it must have been when people did not have science and did not know how it was all about electrons and the weather. How silly it was to be scared of a storm! Peter could not stop laughing until, all of a sudden a huge vein of lightning flashed and his parents shrieked. The light was so bright Peter could not see and all he could do was listen to his mother shriek from the door as he fell to the floor. 

I hope you liked it.


2 thoughts on “Storms and Stories

  1. It should have started with ‘it was a dreary night of November….’. The only thing I associate storms with now is Frankenstein.

    And Zeus, of course. 😉

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