A storm was coming. You could feel it in your bones. The ground rumbled and a roar escaped from the distance, sounding like a growl from the bowls of the earth. The wind bellowed and shook the helpless branches, and the trees strained to stay within the comfort of the ground, their only home. Fire cackled, supporting the wrath of the storm, a smile appeared seeming bright within the radiant flames. Frightened hearts pumped dread through the bodies. Thunder seemed to scream in the agony of the winter air. The echo of the sky’s howl ran through the sky, shaking the earth and the terror in each person’s body. Children pulled covers tightly around their necks, trying to block out the images of lightning. Far away, the young boy stood, hard drops of water raining down onto him. The dark of night had cloaked everyone and everything. The storm had already hit here and had brought hell with it. Houses lay in dust and gardens remained nothing but mud. His house was gone; forever burned to ashes in the ground and tear marks streaked his face, blending with the cries of the clouds. Sorrow filled his already heavy heart and his cries remained unheard. The only thought that remained in his head walked, not raced and was filled with gloom. To him it seemed like nothing else remained on earth except for the roars of the clouds and the flashes of the lightning. Bright yellow painted itself onto the sky, looking like a weapon only for it to be erased just as quickly. Hope was gone, lost forever and to him it seemed like it would never return. His family didn’t make it out of the house on time and now he was stranded on an island of his own misery. He was alone; in this world that had already slipped from his fingers. He was already gone.
