SS 101 Lesson 1

The Storm
The sky grew dark and the clouds waited to roll in. The air, still with the feel of the storms pent up rage, made the hair on my arms raise. The storm had come out of nowhere it seemed. I had been sitting along the lakeshore enjoying the early spring warmth. The winter had been long and this first glimpse of spring had been too good to pass up. Leaves on the trees had begun to appear and the ice upon the lakes surface had broken and begun drifting off in the swift current. Warmer weather was coming and as I sat, I watched as the last of winter’s grip gave way.

As the wind picked up the clouds raced by my head. I knew the rain would be next, cold, hard and unrelenting. In the distance, I saw a house, my refuge from the storms wrath. I had been racing storms since childhood. The race was simple, could I make it to shelter before the storms rage overtook me? As I began to run I knew the race was on. The wind had picked up and the air had the sharp feeling of electricity. As my legs carried me closer to the house I turned to check on the storm, it was right on my heels. It too had not let up on the race.

Limbs from dead trees flew by me, I knew the storm would not play fair. A lawn chair sailed by, and the wind blew on. The house had become larger as I kept up my pace. "It's not far, I am going to win" I yelled at the wind. Dirt, sand, and leaves whizzed by in the storm's weak ploy to stop me.

The storm, never wanting to lose began it's barrage of rain, stinging my skin and drenching me in mere seconds. Cold and wet I raced on, the storm could not win, I would not let it. The house was mere yards ahead, leaning at an awful pitch. The paint, once white, was peeling and most of the windows were broken. As I approached I slammed hard into the door but it would not budge, the knob refused to turn. The storm had built up it's rage, the wind so strong, pushed me harder against the door. Again and again I flung my weight against the old door. The wood, rotted and weak soon gave way and I felt myself falling to the floor on top of the door. The storm's rage grew, howling through the broken windows. Shaking off the effects of the fall, I did my best to prop the old door blocking most of the freezing rain. The old house, left to rot had given me a safe place to wait out the storm. The storms fury intensified, thunder rolled bringing with it, long silver arcs lighting up the afternoon sky. I had won and the storm was not pleased. The dark clouds blocked out all traces of the sun. Across the lake, I could just make out the edge of the storm. A small line of blue slowly increasing in size as the storm raced across the sky. Laughing, I yelled to the storm, “Good race, nice try, better luck next time.” Turning, I made my way across the old kitchen floor, settled down in the corner and waited out the storm’s tantrum.