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Thunderstorm: Wind and Warm Saturday Afternoon Essays

A Thunderstorm It was a warm Saturday afternoon. I was alone at home as my parents had gone to visit my grandmother. I had just finished my school project and decided to relax on the veranda outside my room. I looked up the clear, blue sky and saw some white puffy clouds chasing one another. There was no hint of rain although I felt sticky all over, despite the fan going on at full blast earlier on. Then I heard the rumble of thunder a great distance away. A small squirrel scurried up the tree next to the veranda and I soon forgot about the thunder.
Gradually, the rumbling became more distinct. I went downstairs and told the maid to collect the clothes, just in case it rained. The sky suddenly turned black. Angry clouds were racing across the sky. I was quite astonished by the speed at which the clouds turned colour. A gust of cold wind whooshed towards me, hitting my cheeks. The wind grew stronger, swirling and pushing against the blinds on the veranda. As I was getting up to return to my room, a pale flash of lightning made shadows flicker against the walls of the veranda.
This was followed moments later by another roar of the thunder. The whole room groaned as if unhappy about the storm. Looking out of the veranda, I was surprised to see a white curtain of rain approaching. Before I knew it, it had arrived at the corrugated iron roof of my house, sending it rattling and groaning. The fury of the storm was incredible. The trees outside my garden swayed with the rain. I saw my mother’s prized flowers falling to the ground, unable to withstand the wind and the rain.
I decided to switch on my radio to kill time. But the noise of the rain was so loud that it drowned the music and the songs. I decided to lie on the bed, and wait for the thunderstorm to cease. So for about an hour or so, the storm raged. Then as suddenly as it came, the storm rained itself out. The downpour turned into a drizzle. The black clouds slowly disappeared and the sky was blue once more. I decided to go into the garden after the thunderstorm. Many of the flowers were flattened.
Some tree branches broke while the garden was filled with puddles of water. I walked on the stone slabs in the garden, breathing in the cool, crisp air. Everything smelled fresh and clean. It was as if the curtain of rain had wiped off all the dirt and dust in the air. I was about to peep into my neighbor’s garden to see what damage the thunderstorm had caused when I heard the shrill of the telephone. My maid called me to the phone. It was my mother asking me whether I was all right.

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