the sun Is a flower ( writing prompt )

still some parts from All summer in a day

ONCE AGAIN THE FIRST PART OF the storY IS NOT MINE NEITHER IS THIS PART I WILL PUT A CAPTION IN THE  CHAPTER THAT BELONGS TO ME 

All Summer In a day by Bradbury 

predict, they say, they know, the sun..." "All a joke !" said the boy, and seized her roughly. "Hey, everyone, let's put her in a closet before the teacher comes !" "No," said Margot, falling back. They surged about her, caught her up and bore her, protesting, and then pleading, and then crying, back into a tunnel, a room, a closet, where they slammed and locked the door. They stood looking at the door and saw it tremble from her beating and throwing herself against it. They heard her muffled cries. Then, smiling, the turned and went out and back down the tunnel, just as the teacher arrived. "Ready, children ?" She glanced at her watch. "Yes !" said everyone. "Are we all here ?" "Yes !" The rain slacked still more. They crowded to the huge door. The rain stopped. It was as if, in the midst of a film concerning an avalanche, a tornado, a hurricane, a volcanic eruption, something had, first, gone wrong with the sound apparatus, thus muffling and finally cutting off all noise, all of the blasts and repercussions and thunders, and then, second, ripped the film from the projector and inserted in its place a beautiful tropical slide which did not move or tremor. The world ground to a standstill. The silence was so immense and unbelievable that you felt your ears had been stuffed or you had lost your hearing altogether. The children put their hands to their ears. They stood apart. The door slid back and the smell of the silent, waiting world came in to them. The sun came out. It was the color of flaming bronze and it was very large. And the sky around it was a blazing blue tile color. And the jungle burned with sunlight as the children, released from their spell, rushed out, yelling into the springtime. "Now, don't go too far," called the teacher after them. "You've only two hours, you know. You wouldn't want to get caught out !" But they were running and turning their faces up to the sky and feeling the sun on their cheeks like a warm iron; they were taking off their jackets and letting the sun burn their arms. "Oh, it's better than the sun lamps, isn't it ?" "Much, much better !" They stopped running and stood in the great jungle that covered Venus, that grew and never stopped growing, tumultuously, even as you watched it. It was a nest of octopi, clustering up great arms of fleshlike weed, wavering, flowering in this brief spring. It was the color of rubber and ash, this jungle, from the many years without sun. It was the color of stones and white cheeses and ink, and it was the color of the moon. The children lay out, laughing, on the jungle mattress, and heard it sigh and squeak under them resilient and alive. They ran among the trees, they slipped and fell, they pushed each other, they played hideand-seek and tag, but most of all they squinted at the sun until the tears ran downtheir faces; they put their hands up to thatyellowness and that amazing blueness andthey breathed of the fresh, fresh air andlistened and listened to the silence whichsuspended them in a blessed sea of nosound and no motion. They looked ateverything and savored everything. Then,wildly, like animals escaped from theircaves, they ran and ran in shouting circles.They ran for an hour and did not stoprunning. And then - In the midst of their running one of thegirls wailed. Everyone stopped. The girl, standing in the open, held outher hand. "Oh, look, look," she said, trembling. They came slowly to look at her openedpalm. In the center of it, cupped and huge, wasa single raindrop. She began to cry, lookingat it. They glanced quietly at the sun. "Oh. Oh." A few cold drops fell on their noses andtheir cheeks and their mouths. The sunfaded behind a stir of mist. A wind blew coldaround them. They turned and started towalk back toward the underground house,their hands at their sides, their smilesvanishing away. A boom of thunder startled them and likeleaves before a new hurricane, they tumbledupon each other and ran. Lightning struckten miles away, five miles away, a mile, ahalf mile. The sky darkened into midnight ina flash. They stood in the doorway of theunderground for a moment until it wasraining hard. Then they closed the door andheard the gigantic sound of the rain falling intons and avalanches, everywhere andforever. "Will it be seven more years ?" "Yes. Seven." Then one of them gave a little cry. "Margot !" "What ?" "She's still in the closet where we lockedher." "Margot." They stood as if someone had driventhem, like so many stakes, into the floor.They looked at each other and then lookedaway. They glanced out at the world thatwas raining now and raining and rainingsteadily. They could not meet each other'sglances. Their faces were solemn and pale.They looked at their hands and feet, theirfaces down. "Margot." One of the girls said, "Well... ?" No one moved. "Go on," whispered the girl. They walked slowly down the hall in thesound of cold rain. They turned through thedoorway to the room in the sound of thestorm and thunder, lightning on their faces,blue and terrible. They walked over to thecloset door slowly and stood by it. Behind the closet door was only silence. They unlocked the door, even moreslowly, and let Margot out