Thunderstorms

Thunderstorms

Thunderstorms are a way of life. Clouds always moving across the sky, looking for the perfect place to stop and reign terror upon. They go by, unnoticed by the many people who are so tremendously affected by them. Flipping through channels people hear, 30% chance of rain, scattered showers, light gusts of wind at noon- the words breeze right over their heads. No one worries too much. What is the big deal about storms?
The day started off like any other perfect spring day, sunny, and 75 without any rowdy winds in sight. White fluffy clouds pranced around but for some reason the image of rain lingered in the background, everyone knew that it was coming. At least that’s what the news said. The weatherman had sent out several hundred reminders. He wanted to be sure his listeners were extra prepared for this one. However, people continued to grasp their ignorance, refusing to let the storm take full precedence in their minds. He had proved to be wrong before, so what could stop that from happening this time? No rain boots, rain coats, or umbrellas in sight. Everyone just skipping through life, but not for long. The clouds began to surround the city around noon, picking and choosing their targets, scattered across the sky. The thunder was the first to make an appearance, no rain yet- just the promise to come. Booms rang out across the sky and still the world did not notice. The rumbles and rolls spread far and wide, spilling forth their warnings. Slowly, as time passed, the raindrops entered in. Drip, drip, drop. One by one they fall. Yet all collide together to form a torrential downpour. People start to scramble, but still they remain unfazed. The closing act is yet to come, the most vital part to make the storm complete, to make it memorable. Me. The lightning. I crash down, the first bolt sends people bounding into homes and away from the roads. Now the world will notice, now they will see the storm. Jagged patterns jolt across the sky, screaming to be noticed. My voice of light puts all the other elements to shame. I beat the thunder out, him always following my lead. Every strike is different. They all come from a deep, dark place in the sky. We work together, me, thunder and water, to create one of the biggest terrors known to man. The outrageous winds, explosive sounds, and blinding flashes, all to remind the people that we are here. The weatherman wasn’t wrong this time. When it’s all said and done, we leave them be, even display a multicolored vision for them to focus on.

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