Meanwhile, back at the ranch, figuratively speaking, of course. Becky and Billy and their parents neither lived on a ranch or had a ranch house, but we digress. Oops! Let’s have Becky tell the story.
Things are not quite back to routine. We live on the fringe of the Suburbs but not the fancy houses. This house is around eighty-years-old Dad says. We do not have a manicured lawn or sheep-sheared shrubs. We have a much bigger yard and many old trees.
Today, the temperature got up there. One of the neighbor girls, Janie, was playing in our yard. I think her parents don’t want her to come into the house; fearing that she will contract some disease. Dad says that our house has character. All the neighbors think that he is a character. Still, he’s my dad, and we love him.
The azure sky felt like being in a giant dome. Cream-colored wispy clouds invaded the scenery. The air hit Billy and me like a whip. It smelled like Aniseed oil. An ominous, almost surreal, grayish-blackness made our body hairs react. We ran inside as the first drops of rain pelted our backs. A sonic boom shook the house; then another loud clap. Like a giant flickering light bulb, electric fury arced across many places. The thunder was relentless.
Billy asked me if I remembered Fleetwood Mac at grandma’s. I smiled at him.
Thunder only happens when it's raining.
He waved his hand in the air.
The heavens sent forth its fury to split our view asunder.
There is a running figure seen off from the blurred window pane.
Up here and through all the water we can see what’s down under.
Yes; in the storm’s crashing cymbals, there is one yet in the lane.
With lightning dancing at her feet, let’s hope she doesn’t blunder.
Before long, she will soon be back home; here is rooting for Jane.
Now all has gone dark, yet my skin and my ears feel the thunder.
Fingers of flash stretch across the sky and play games in my brain.
Here is a tough puzzle for me to solve yet I still wonder.
How can I tell John Fogerty, “Sorry,” but, “Who’ll stop the rain?”
I looked at my brother rather incredulously and tried not to picture him with Yorick's skull in his hand.
Mom came in; holding a candle. She guided us downstairs. We all sat together on the sofa. I had never seen things so dark during the daytime previously, as my world was right now. The candle on the table gave off an eerie glow. Mom and Billy provided a reassurance for me as we sat together.
Mom suggested that we play The Object Game. Hours went by, and it was just the three of us enjoying each other’s company. Mom served up a bag of potato puffs as she did not want to open the refrigerator.
Mom sat almost motionless and pursed his lips. I asked her what was wrong. She only slightly moved and side glanced at me, “Your father should have been home by now.”
Billy perked up, “With the storm, he’s probably taking his time.”
Mom didn’t flinch. I slid over to mom and put my head on her shoulder and patted her hand. She gently put her chin on my head. Mom was doing all the worrying for the family, and things got still. Billy sensed the situation and stopped eating the puffs and got on the other side of mom and held onto her. Soon, he told mom that dad would be home and that everything was going to be okay but that we be there for each other until then.
Mom started squeezing us harder. “I love you two so much. Ours is such a great family.” We hardly moved and stayed silent.
There were more flashes of light and the delayed sounds of thunder that we could feel. Soon there were more flashes of light and Billy jumped up. He opened the door and cried out, “It’s Dad! Dad’s home!”
Mom started crying, but bravely wiped back the tears. Buoyantly, dad appeared in the doorway; rearranging Billy’s hair and feeling the pressure on his ribs. We were all together, again.
Enthusiastically, dad declared, “Woooweee! That is some long-term thunderstorm out there!” Mom interrupted him before he could go on with his speech. She clutched onto him before giving him a fierce kiss.
Billy was too quick for me, as when I realized that I should be making a gracious exit, he emulated a chipmunk with the maximum amount of potato puffs stuffed into his mouth.
As we all ended up on the couch, the thunder stopped, although the rain was still relentless. Noon, the next day, the power was back. The downpour persisted along with a brief reminder of the thunder.
On the seventy-first hour, the storm played out entirely, and sunshine announced its presence with authority. Mom encouraged Billy and me to take off our footwear and go out and run through the puddles; letting mud squish between our toes. In the sheer ecstasy of the moment, the thunder and rain were all worth it.
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Snick-snick; now I see what you mean. Nice one! :)
It's always nice to have another convert. It is good to see life through the eyes of a child.
Marvelously written! Reminds me of the current happenings with Hurricane Irma but with a happy ending which is nice!
Thank you, most kindly. This contest has been very stimulating.
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STOPnice story @aedroberts... some very @originalworks
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I was waiting for something nasty to happen. Thankfully it didn't. Nice story.
Great story, I can relate to the rain as its rainy season out here :)
well wrote! keep it up!
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https://steemit.com/poetry/@athenabree08/great-pretender