I write what I write

CHPercolator scribbling - 15 july 2001

Distant lights

by Anita Dapperens

 

Tara gazed in awe at the distant lights that gave birth to the storm that was currently roaring over her city.  Thunderstorms had never really scared her, on the contrary, they excited her.  Even as a small child she would sit on the window pane, her nose pressed to the glass, watching the lightning and listening to the thunder.  She didn’t miss that first tiny flash, somewhere far, far away, followed with delay by an almost soundless thunder.  As soon as she saw that flash she almost ran to her window seat and waited for what would be next.  She wasn’t disappointed. Blinking her eyes rapidly from the sharpness of light, she smiled.  This one was coming close pretty fast.  The thunder wasn’t loud enough to make the statue on her table tremble, but it made her heart jump in anticipation.  Another bright flash, and another, and another, and her smile widened, this time the statue did tremble when the thunders roared louder and louder.

She didn’t know what attracted her to the storms, but it had something soothing.  And the louder, and closer the storm was, the more calming effect it had on her.

Her smile froze when the next flash was just another distant light, and the thunder had yet to be heard.  It couldn’t be over so soon, could it?

For endless minutes she stared out in the dark, her eyes lighting up at every little spark, hoping it would pass over her city one more time. And she waited, and waited    but none of the sparks ever came back.

Closing her eyes, Tara revelled in the memory of the loudest thunder she heard, the brightest flashes imprinted on her eyelids.  It was always too short, always barely enough.  But at least she felt calmer now, and that was all that mattered.

 

The End

© 2001 Anita Dapperens - all rights reserved