Summer Storm -

Old Man Silas sat on his porch, watching the horizon. He didn’t need a barometer; he could feel the pressure in his knees. "She’s coming," he muttered to the cat, who was already huddled by the door.

Jagged white veins pulsed across the clouds, illuminating the woods in strobing flashes. summer storm

A solid grey curtain that erased the neighboring farm from view. Old Man Silas sat on his porch, watching the horizon

As quickly as it arrived, the roar faded to a steady drip-drop. The clouds broke, letting a final, golden sliver of sunlight hit the wet pavement, making everything glisten as if coated in glass. Jagged white veins pulsed across the clouds, illuminating

The heat was gone. The air was sweet and sharp with the smell of wet pavement and crushed grass. Silas opened the door, and the cat finally stepped out, sniffing the brand-new world.

The air in the valley was thick and still, like a held breath. By 4:00 PM, the cicadas had stopped their rhythmic buzzing, and the sky had turned an eerie, bruised shade of violet.

On the porch, Silas watched the gutters overflow, the water cascading like mini-waterfalls. For twenty minutes, the world was nothing but noise and water. It was a violent, beautiful cleansing. The Aftermath