The Storm of the Century
I hope the weatherman had enough sense to warn these people. I am coming through with a vengeance, and my best buddies are coming with me. This poor little town will be cleaning up behind me for days.
The electrical discharges I send left many trees on the ground or hovering precariously above unsuspecting travelers in their metal transports. The rumble in my belly they feel all the way down to the ground itself, shakes them to their core. The icy baseballs I hurtle down on uncovered heads leave many wounded; leave dents in doors, on sidewalks, vehicles, and blue mailboxes.
The wind, though, is my pride. I really outdid myself with the huffing and puffing. Then, I challenged it to a race. What trees weren’t caught in lightning bowed over from the gale. The heaping buckets of rain I pour down add to their demise, and metal boxes attempt flooding roadways and the wind reaches out her hand and swipes them away. People climb to the roofs of their houses, calling for help, yet still I march on.
I aim to be the storm of the century, and I do my very best. I came; I saw; I conquered. Everything else is everybody else’s problem.
For the Scriptic.org prompt exchange this week, Michael gave me this prompt: ”I do the best I can. Everything else is everybody else’s problem.” -Alison Janney
I gave Carrie this prompt: It’s back-to-school time. You are reading over your child’s school supply list, and there, between the filler paper and three ring binder, was something quite unexpected. What was it?
I welcome your constructive criticism. Please leave your thoughts in a comment. Did I “show” enough or “tell” too much?
Thanks for stopping in!