A Storm Of Memories

• Arabella Bourke, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2020

Graham Wallace opened the front door to his modest cottage and stepped outside. The long, neglected grass tickled at his bare feet as he took in the grey clouds looming menacingly above him.
It had been a long time since Graham had stopped to observe the scenery surrounding his cottage, but he did so now. Across from his front door was a serene crystal lake, ripples gently lapping a shore of pearly pebbles. Vast, barren fields of parched grass stretched over the rest of the landscape, desolate, unending. It was subtly beautiful, yet lonely. For Graham, the loneliness was welcome.
Graham knew he could not stay outside for much longer. Even now the first trickle of rain was falling from the heavens, along with the first rumbles of thunder. He hurried inside as rapidly as his tired old bones would allow him.
Soon the trickle of rain had become a torrential downpour, a cascade of water pouring down from the heavens. The wind was moaning piteously and ceaselessly, gusting violently in every direction. Sudden, spectacular lightning forks pierced the sky like a fireworks display, followed by deafening growls of thunder that echoed around. The earthy smell of rainwater now threatened to overpower entirely the musty smell of dust that usually resided in Graham’s cottage, so strong that he could almost taste it on his tongue. Graham sat in his chair by the window, watching. He sat, listening to the wind lashing his cottage and rattling the rafters. He sat, enduring one of nature’s most impressive and formidable phenomenon: a thunderstorm.
And then, at the next flash of lightning, it happened.
Graham was a young man again, tucking his 5-year-old child, Harry, into his bed during a storm. His wife, Lavender, was by his side. Harry was jumping with every crack of thunder.
“Mum, Dad, I’m scared. When will the storm be over?” Harry looked up at them with wide, fearful eyes, seeking comfort.
“I couldn’t say, darling. But nothing can happen to you while you’re inside.” Graham looked reassuringly at his son.
Lavender beamed. “You know thunder is really a giant playing the drums?”
“Really?” asked Harry eagerly. “Tell me more.”
Lavender smiled even wider, taking a deep breath to begin telling a story to her son. Graham excused himself politely, smiling to himself. Lavender really had a way with this sort of thing.
And with that, Graham returned to the present. Where had that come from? He had promised himself not to think about the past…
With a jolt, Graham realised that he was shaking. His wrinkled cheeks were wet.
While he realised this, he also realised that he was lonely. In his chest was a hollow ache, a gaping void where his happiness used to be. When he had lost Lavender forever, he had cut himself off, isolated himself from the people he loved – even his own son. He missed them.
Graham stood up. The storm had subsided. Harry had waited for too long. It was time.