More of it. The inventor.

Today’s prompt: The weather.

Whoever thought of that, should be shot, weather is smalltalk material, not, oh my God, I know a story material.

Darkness

It was dark. And stormy. The typical beginning for a very bad story. Except for I forgot it was also night. Now, we’ve got the whole thing covered. A dark and stormy night. This, of course, is not the typical bad story. It’s a tale about a night, a night that really occured.

I was about eight years old and visiting my grandmother. She lives in a little, scratch that, tiny village, all the way up on a hill. Compared to the mountains around the hill it was small. Surroundeed by the mountains was a lake at the bottom of the hill, rendering the landscape incredible.

As I mentioned before, it wasn’t only dark, it was also stormy. A thunderstorm at my grandmother’s place was a wonderful thing to experience. Or of course a horrific thing, if you don’t feel comfortable in the middle of thunder and lightning.

Everytime a lightning flashed through the night, you could see the shapes of the mountains, tall, reaching towards the sky and then the thunder would overpower everything. Combined with the echo thrown back it was almost scary but I loved it.

That very night, I was sleeping on the couch in the living room. Right next to the TV. Wonderful setting for a kid. Waking up, stretching, watching TV. My cousins were in the room next to mine, when the storm started.

Excitement rushed through me. I was about to get up and watch the lightnings flashing through the night when suddenly the blood froze in my veins. Above me, standing in the window (or was it floating?) there were the shadows of several monsters. A second later, they were gone.

I was trembling, snuggling deeper into my covers, watching out for every movement. It was pitch black. No chance to see anything at all. But the next lightning was just seconds away and there they were again. The blinding light was only for a second and all I could see was terrifying shadows, nothing more, nothing less.

I wanted to get up. Get light. Check it out. But I was too scared to leave the safety of my blanket.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep. When I woke up, the cactuses standing in my grandmother’s window seemed to laugh at me.

Gee, people, I discovered my writing skills vanished. That happens when you never write. Don’t ever do that. Always write, write, write.