"Suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning struck her. Pain shot through her body, every nerve ending on fire. She screamed, her world exploding into white-hot agony. Then, everything went black"
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On a quiet afternoon in 2024, a sudden storm disrup...
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Have you ever been struck by lightning?
I guess your answer is no.
I have, and it hurts like hell. U thought I was dead cause it felt like I fell into a deep sleep after the immense paint moved through my body.
Well, to get this story started, I'll have to do a brief background how I got struck by lightning.
***
Few Hours Before the Lightning Strike
Kayla jolted awake in her cozy little apartment, nestled in the heart of London. The morning sun peeked through her sheer curtains, filling the room with a golden glow. Her walls were an eclectic mix of dance posters, family photos, and quotes that had gotten her through rough days. It was small, but full of character—just like her. Each corner was a piece of her journey, from New York hustle to this pivotal moment.
She stretched, still wrapped in the warm comfort of her bed, a jittery mix of excitement and nerves fluttering in her stomach. Today's the day, she thought, pressing her palms into the mattress and pushing herself up. Today was huge: her first day as the assistant dance teacher at the London School of Performing Arts. Big. Deal.
It wasn't just any gig. This was the dream she'd been chasing for years, despite all the auditions, the tears, the rejections, and the empty promises. This was her moment. She could practically hear her mom's voice cheering her on in her head: "You've got this, Kayla!"
As she slipped out of bed, her mind wandered back to those late nights in New York, her muscles burning as she danced until she couldn't move anymore. The sweat, the blisters, the setbacks—none of it had ever stopped her. It was worth it. She had a rock-solid foundation in her family, who'd supported every wild step of this journey, and now she was about to show them all that every sacrifice had been worth it.
The clock blinked 7:00 AM. Just enough time, she thought, rushing through a quick shower, steam filling the bathroom, and her nerves climbing a little higher. She threw on her favorite dance attire—black leggings, a snug grey tank top, and a sweater tied around her waist, ready to show the world who she was. With a high ponytail of braids pulled tightly, she checked herself in the mirror. This is it.
The streets of London buzzed as she made her way to the Tube. With every step, her mind raced: What would the students be like?Would they respect her?Would she fit in? She shook off the thoughts and focused on the thrill. This was her shot.
When she arrived at the London School of Performing Arts, it was everything she'd imagined—and more. The building stood like a monument, tall and proud with towering columns and grand windows that reflected the first light of day. Inside, the walls were lined with portraits of alumni who'd made history. The whole place hummed with creativity, talent, and dreams. She felt so small, so new, but also on the verge of something big.
