Storm to pass

Alexis stared out of the windscreen of her Austin Martin Vanquish V12. The world outside seemed surreal, distorted through the raindrops that were cascading from the thick black clouds that hung in the sky.

Twelve years ago, she was just like everyone else her age, now she had everything she could have ever wished for. Her house, on a road she knew when she was young. It used to be where she used to go to school and opposite used to be bungalows, now it had been flattened and three huge mansions took their place. Four floors, luxuriously decorated with expensive furnishings and luscious carpet. She had the job of her dreams, a world-renowned photographer. Known for her high fashion cover shoots and photographs of celebrities, and now she had more money than she could have ever imagined. No major responsibilities apart from herself and her job. The only thing she was missing was the love of her child-hood sweetheart, Adam.

Alexis, when 18years of age was not known as Alexis Morrison but Rayne Graves. Only two years after moving to London, following a University degree in photography, she acquired a stalker who became very violent and threatening towards Alexis and her family. So, to save herself she was forced to change her name and appearance along with a restraining order against the man. She swapped her long, waist length, blonde hair for a short dark brown.

She pulled off the slip road into Easington Village. St Mary’s church was still standing proud as she drove along Hall Walks and past Seaton Holmes, which she had heard, was being converted into an art gallery. She turned up onto Stockton Road and pulled into her driveway. As she opened the front door into her house and looked at the clock. 5:15am.

Alexis dropped her suitcases at the bottom of the spiral staircase locking the door behind her. She headed down a flight of stairs to find the construction of her storm room was complete along with the supplies she had ordered after the storms from the past months had been labelled as the apocalypse, and people who believed this had storm rooms built beneath their houses to shelter from the storms. In the past month alone more than five cities in England had been destroyed, one of which was Newcastle.  She admired the crafts man ship that had been put into her plans and ideas. Everything was as she had imagined it and more. She smiled to herself and proceeded back up the stairs to the ground floor. She moved through the house to the kitchen and made a cup of tea in the favourite “The Nightmare before Christmas” mug. She sat down on her black leather corner couch kicking off her Dr Martin onto the floor. Picking up the TV remote, she flicked through a few channels before settling on the news. The storm outside lit up the room as the lightening hit not far from her house.

“The most ferocious storm ever recorded in UK history hit tonight taking down the bell tower of Durham Cathedral,” the news anchor reported in a panicked tone, “the government advises everyone to stay indoors for the duration of the storm. In other news...”

The television screen went black cutting off the reporter mid-sentence then the lights went. Another bolt of lightning lit up the room and house alarms could be heard through the darkness.

Alexis stood up using the screen of her phone as a torch light. She dropped her empty mug into the sink and made her way into the hall and up two flights of stairs to her bedroom.

She took off her jeans and changed into her oversized Misfits t-shirt then climbed into her queen size four poster bed.