When the Storms Come

While some find the thunderstorms to be frightening events, I find them rather comforting. When the cumulus clouds began to roll in, I collected some pillows and blankets and made my way to the attic window. It was the perfect spot to watch the rain pour down from the heavens. I curled into the small nook with a comforting book and a hot cup of tea.

I watched as the wall of rain moved in over the land. The horizon grew dark with heavy clouds, casting shadows on treetops and over the fenced farmland of my home. As the rain glided over the house, the tap-tap-tapping of raindrops drummed on the steel-shingled roof, and the house groaned with the gravity of the wind. I held my breath for a moment, afraid the house was going to topple as it creaked. I waited, then released the shaking breath.

The wind howled and the thunder gave a distant growl. On my knees, I peered over the ledge to watch the cattle run into the barn as the rain picked up. A small calf lingered behind, slow but frantic. Its thin legs bucked and it cried, yelping out to the herd that corralled inside the barn. The safety of the barn was still so far away. It ran as fast as its feeble legs would, but a sudden trip sent it rolling into the wet, trampled ground. It howled as the rain hammered on, slicing at the creature with its sting. The brown fur began to dissipate and curl away from the raw, red flesh, burning the poor thing. As I watched, the creature’s blood turned to red steam and the red muscle simmered to a brown, searing the edges of the fatted parts. After a few minutes, the flesh fell away from the bone and the howling had ceased. What once had been a newborn calf now lay as a pile of seared meat and pearled bone.

I looked around the rest of the visible yard in search of any other victims to the rain’s fury. I found none. With a sigh, I sat back down in the nook of the attic to peer at the blackened sky, waiting patiently for the next deep rumble of thunder. I enjoyed nights like this; there were no obligations, no place to be-- just the seductive growl of the sky, the rhythmic dance of raindrops, and the promise of seared meat in the morning.

The Rain Challenge