A Troubling Storm

Author’s Note:  This is my figurative language piece.  I am writing about  an evening when a major storm is about to erupt.  I am going to try to use different forms of figurative language to describe the feeling in this piece. 

A harsh wind rushes past me like an oncoming freight train. The blue afternoon sky has been taken over by the evil darkness that this storm has brought. The birds outside are chirping very loudly, alerting their fellow species of what is coming. Lightning lights up the sky to the west like fireworks do on the 4^th of July. That is then followed by rumbles of thunder. I rush into the house and begin to close all the doors inside the house so no rain get in.

“This is a special weather statement from your local weather station,” said the station commentator.

“Thank you Jamie, this storm is an absolute monster it goes all the way into central Minnesota,” said the weather man.  “Stay indoors, this storm will last a long time.  Expect up to seven inches of rain.”

I go look at the calendar, tomorrow was the day that I was supposed to golf with some friends, looks like that is most likely going to be cancelled. I was disappointed that the round of golf was not going to happen.

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“Boom”. Thunder screams across the sky as we get deeper into this night.  Rain continues to pound down on top of our old roof.  Our roof is a cotton ball, it can only hold up so much water before it starts to leak. Other than the roof, our house was built very well to handle a large amount of precipitation, but this might just carry it over.

That night I could not sleep at all, it was just raining, and raining and raining all night long. There were times when the rumbles of thunder would sound like bombs hitting the ground. I have never liked thunder, and that night there were a few rumbles that scared me to death. I would eventually fall asleep, but not until two in the morning.    

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I woke up at three in the afternoon, there was still a light rain coming down.  The rain continued dancing on the roof like Victor Cruiz. My little brother came running into to my room screaming for me to come outside and play with him.  His words hurt my ears because I just woke up. He wanted to play basketball: I said no, but my mom made me.  He ended up beating me because I didn’t care and because I was tired.