I truly fear only two things:
The dark.
Thunder storms.
Both of these are capable of of bringing me to my knees and trampling on my soul as my spirit disintegrates into atoms. Atoms that cause the charge that cause the sky to illuminate with a red and blue hue. Atoms that crash together hurtling a growling rumble across the rain filled sky. As a child I watched my gran and mother darting room to room switching off lights, TVs anything electrical. This was to stop the lightening from choosing our house to strike.  We were plunged into darkness as flashes scarred my mind. Between the brief moments of light I stared into the pits of blackness  where shadows sit in wait, where every nightmare that has ever been dreamed, begins. There in the shadows, between the wardrobes, behind the doors, behind curtains. Across the floor, beneath the bed, creeping along the landing it’s icy cold fingers grasping the door handle …..

We have a thunderstorm….:-(

Karen Hayward ©2016

The Storm.

It’s peaceful, a thunderous sky. Soft rain tapping at the glass

trailing down, someone’s always last. A split second of

illumination, blink, and you’ll never know how far away those

disturbed clouds are. It’s like that elusive wish,

on the shooting star. Rumbles echo, dancing through

the rain drops, hiding beneath the covers praying it

will soon stop. Static air that clings to your skin, if

we’re lucky a rainbow to show a storm has been.