Shhh! Scribbler at Work

Rush Hour

(prompt: 'weather' 24/8/2018)

At first it was just one or two heads lifting, looking around the area as if getting a sixth sense of something out of kilter. One of the girls rubbed her nose as she walked along, following the crowd; another actually twitched and twisted hers inquisitively. It was true. An unusual smell was developing in the air. Slowly but surely more heads turned; more eyes went from curious, to concerned, to slightly fearful. Later, some would say a heaviness came down; an oppressive sense of something squashing the space between sky and self.

Being somewhat taller than those ahead of me, I had an advantage, a forewarning of the ominous growth of the storm clouds far to the north. To start with, I'd felt supremely confident I had plenty of time before anyone else got wind of what was approaching. It seemed so slow-moving - as though, with luck, it might miss us completely. What a relief that would be. Lord knows we've had enough power-breaks already this season, I thought, brushing my hair back from a forehead suddenly damp from an unexpected burst of perspiration. Can't avoid a kind of smirk - betcha Doc would be interested in my blood pressure reading right now! And my grin spread even wider as I thought of some of the readings she's had from me just after I've arrived at the Clinic... the ones that are 'off the planet' - too high to even record. Seems I suffer 'white coat syndrome', despite having no fear of medicos, especially my Doctor who is also a good friend. Several minutes later normal readings are achieved to no-one's surprise, but everyone's relief.

Meanwhile, back at the storm-front, anxiety was increasing, despite my best efforts to inject a sense of calm into the crowd. I'd done it before...heaven only knows how many times. But this time they were clearly showing their growing doubt. A smell? An uncanny, uneasy feeling - just different somehow. There was shuffling, a push here and there as some manoeuvred themselves for a better view - trying to get some idea of what the uneasy crowd was about to do. Bodies began to follow faces turned back over shoulders, becoming more apprehensive by the moment.

I could clearly read the unmistakable signs. All logic and reasoning was blown away with a sudden, violent blast of wind - cold as if directly from the Arctic. In a flash, it was MOB-RULE taking control.

Believe me - when a herd of dairy cows decides en masse to stampede, you best get a gate closed - FAST! As speedily as I could through that knee-deep mud and other unmentionable 'stuff', I headed back to secure our girls, keeping a frantic eye on their approach. Alas, too late! As a hailstorm hit, 'discretion before valour' was my only choice, as I flattened myself against the fence, totally unaware of the barbed wire piercing my jacket.

No pain, no gain they say - and they were surely right this time. Rather the odd puncture wound than the crushing experience of a herd of crazed cows turning me into an unrecognisable mudlark [at best!]