Thunderstorms
By Eowyn Morris Oldfield, Year 10, Linton Village College

The sky was still weeping, tears being thrown onto the people underneath. The loud, angry growls echoed throughout the small sleepy village, causing small children to hide under their covers, clutching the stuffed toys that guarded them whilst they slept. All but one, that is. One child, a strange creature, relished the sudden storm. She was dancing, twirling like a mad thing, in the icy downpour. Head full of nothing but the thoughts of pleasure as she performed for the angry sky. The light blue gown she had been wearing was now a deep ocean colour thanks to the heavy rain. The sky roared once again, and the girl opened her mouth to yell in harmony, as if she was singing a song only the sky could understand.

In a house nearby, a young boy watches in amazement as the young girl continues her quest to communicate with the vexed weather. He has been told to come away from the window and stop watching the ‘crazy street child’, but he cannot. He is drawn to her, a mixture of perplexity and fascination keeping him grounded at the glass portal, staring in awe at this child, who seems carefree and happy, content to dance in the midst of a downpour, regardless of the consequences. Here was a girl who had no worries, a spirit that seemed as wild and free as the storm she stood beneath. Regardless of what his parents said, he didn’t want to take his eyes off her.

He was envious. She was oblivious.