The Coming Storm

A descriptive piece.

A lone tree stood amidst a never ending field of grass, its naked branches stretching out against the rapidly darkening skies. An over looming shadow fell across the fields, adding to the element of darkness.

 

The insects above the surface of the soil began to evacuate themselves deep into the ground and into theirs burrows and nests once more, for the air had become tense and seemed to crackle as if it were alive this very moment. The insects knew the rain was the harbinger of floods, as it poured down in merciless torrents. The floods would wash them away, pulling them underneath when their deft fingers caught hold of them and drowning them if they did not start reaching for safety now.

 

The grass in the fields continued to sway as if unfazed by the anger of the storm, oblivious to the danger that was ahead. The storm clouds let out a war cry, the incredible sound shaking through the ground, an almost deafening bellow of anger. It was getting ready to strike, a deadly blow that could kill any nearby creatures.

 

Rain began to fall in heavy drops, exploding against the blades of grass, sending more droplets everywhere and soaking the smaller flowers that the grass shielded. The rain drummed against the earth, playing as the war drums and singing with the thunder, a harmony of nature.

 

The thunder clouds crackled, with white electricity fizzling through the stormy grey. The storm was raising its sword, ready to strike and attack. The tree stood where it was, a vulnerable victim held fast by its roots with its limbs held against the sky as if it were pleading the storm clouds for mercy.

 

Then the lightening struck.

 

The white sword of electricity the storm had been holding arced down, slicing against the defenceless tree, its anger, fury and hatred pinpointed on the pitiful thing.

 

For a split second there was a dazzling white explosion as the electricity tore its way through the tree before it exploded. Splinters of bark flew in all directions, never to be seen again. A fiery orange began to spread throughout the tree’s blackened limbs, claiming what was left of its leaves and eating away at its body. The storm clouds seemed to take pity on the dying and archaic creature and at last decided to let it rest in peace.

 

The rain began to fall in fatter drops that shattered against the tree’s charcoal trunk and feeble limbs. What had once been proud and ancient oak tree was now reduced to a shivering blackened wreck. As the savaging fire began to diminish, the rain lessened and the sound of the once thunderous war drums quietened with each smaller raindrop. Then as quickly as it had started, it finished.

 

The rain stopped, the war drums no longer playing. The grey storm clouds began to retreat in all directions and holes began to thread their ways through the dark skies, letting in the golden streams of sunlight through. It was a heavenly sight, as though God had opened up the skies and was guiding lost souls through brightly lit pathways to Heaven.

 

Slowly and gradually, the insects and animals began to come out from their safe little burrows and scampered on the surface, once more searching for food or to find a mate. The honeybees resumed their jobs, filling the air with the familiar buzzing sounds of their wings. The birds began to sing, their calls sweet and sharp.

 

The blackened tree stood where it was in front of this sacred image. This creature that had once been so aloof and full of pride was now a dark and twisted wreck that was no longer living, the remains of an impressive and ancient oak tree.

 

Reviews

[Hanna]

This TREE will NEVER be naked. Also, it has wings and flies! No matter what name tries to take its branches, they will fail. And rot in a prisoncell. Too bad theres NOTHING you could ever do about it!

[TaciturnPhantom]

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