The Great Storm!

The wind blew and blew, the rain thrashed and the thunder roared. The room lite up every time the lightning hit!

I was woken by an almighty bang, and I was scared.

The chimney was whistling with the wind whirling down the tunnel, right past my bedroom, and through the lounge.

I screamed, I didn’t like it. I was only 6 years old and I hated storms, I hated wind, I hated lightning, I hated thunder and I hated the dark.

Mummy came running in, “It’s ok, it’s just a storm come into mummy’s bed”

She picked me up and carried me through, Daddy was watching out the window. He has always loved storms, strange man.

I curled up next to mummy and shook. Daddy went to check on my sister she was fast asleep with her headphones on not hearing a thing. Although a bomb could go off next to her and she wouldn’t wake.

I lay cuddled in mummy’s arms for a while, silent tears falling down my cheeks, shaking with every thunder-clap and lightning strike not able to go back to sleep. It seemed ages that I lay there!

Nothing seemed to be stopping, or slowing down, Daddy kept commentating on what was happening, which I didn’t really want to hear. But he carried on doing it anyway.

Suddenly there was an almighty crash, a window smashed and I screamed. Screamed like I had never screamed before. Daddy ran down the stairs, mummy squeezed me tight.

A lot of hustle and bustle I was hysterical, mummy was trying to calm me, daddy was shouting. My sister was still asleep!

“The tree’s come through the window, I am going to sort it out”

Mummy’s telling daddy to be careful and trying to stop me from crying.

Lots of banging, and crashing outside! Hammering and banging. Daddy comes back in, he has moved the tree, and put wood up at the window.

I am tired I finally fall asleep crying into the pillow, held in mummies arms.

When I wake in the morning, my sister and mummy are talking.

“What are you doing?” Mummy asks.

“Going to work,” says my sister.

“You wont get to work, did you not hear the storm there’s trees down all the roads, you wont get to work.”

“What storm?”

Mummy opens the curtains, “Oh my god” is all my sister has to say.

Trees are down everywhere, there are tiles from the roofs on the ground. All the daddies are in the car park moving bits of tree away and checking their cars.

We have no electricity, and don’t have for over a week. We live of candles and walking, climbing over trees until they are cleared away. The world is busy but quiet so quiet after the Great Storm.

This post was written for the Writing Workshop I choose two prompts this week, 4. Share a powerful memory, or memories, from your childhood and 5. Storm.