Quiet Before The Storm

• Mitch Blake, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2016

I ran through the streets, desperately searching for home as the rain poured down around me in thick sheets. It's coldness seeped its way into my already aching bones and through the joggers I wore on my feet. As the only person there I was able to sprint by the closing shops and through the forming puddles on the ground without having to stop.
It wasn't the type of weather to go outdoors.
Surprisingly hail started forming in the dark clouds above and pelted down on me like... well, hail I guess.
The concrete made a continual beating sound with each step I made, the sound of ice and water hammering down on the pavement was deafening. I reached the centre of the small city I lived in, where a tall oak tree stood alone. I made my way over and sat at its roots as the hail started growing in size.
Lightning flashed in the distance and the wind picked up around me so that the dead leaves swirled. I looked at the branches, dead with little leaves left from the storm. Maybe if I made a break for it I could get home in the next 5 minutes.
Suddenly, everything stopped. The rain ceased and the hail ended, even the wind died to a quiet whistle. It was at that moment I looked up, the dark clouds flashed with electricity, and from it, a bolt.
Time seemed to slow as it flew from the sky, straight towards the tree. I glimpsed its blinding white light, it's jagged descent.

Darkness.