The Storm (short story)

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I stared blankly at the pouring rain, as the screams reverberated around my bedroom. They told me to lock the door, I did, as I hugged my teddy bear tightly trying to block out the aching, heart wrenching images, I had seen. Bloodshot eyes ……. two knives ….. and a suitcase. The painful scenes enveloped me like a blanket as I screamed in agony. Hot tears formed a raging river, and forced my sobs.

 I didn’t know what was wrong with the man, who was usually a nice man, and was now a different person. An abomination. The rage inside him was so deep; there was no end to it. It was as endless as the ocean. I had no idea what had brought on this foreign agitation but it frightened me to the core. I heard two words from the lady who was now in the kitchen: he’s drunk. The silence was unbearable. I had to do something. I crept out of my room, to find two people in the kitchen staring icily at each other. They both had knives in their hands. One person’s eyes were moist from tears, and the other pair of eyes were like a sea of fire and were full of pure hatred.

It was Christmas, claimed to be “The most wonderful time of the year”. I was told that everything was going to be okay, but of course that wasn’t the truth. The eyes of loathing were unfocused and unrecognizable. He was there in body and soul, but not there in mind. As I walked into the kitchen, the darkness was like a cloak of night. It was pitch black and the moon’s soft glow was nowhere to be seen, but I could still see the daggers of death in both of their hands. I couldn’t really tell who was who, but I could see two shadows standing four feet from each other, and the rain poured down heavily and the thunder made the house shake, and moan with weight. The wind was a howl unheard over the uproar of the rain.

“She’s staying with me,” the man’s voice echoed. The roar of thunder could be heard all around. I winced at the sound.

“No, she’s not,” said the female’s calm voice. The lightning showed her determined face for an instant, and then it was gone, into the blackness. The man yelled in anger and raised his deadly weapon aloft. There was a flash of lightning and I whimpered.

 “Put the knife down and put the suitcase back where it belongs, in the closet” her soft whisper said. The wind’s screech sounded like an angry demented bat.

 “You’re leaving. Pack your suitcase and leave her with ME!!!” he exploded with an outburst of disapprobation.

“I’m not going anywhere. Now, put the knife down” she said in a sickeningly, sweet voice. He ran toward her like an angry rhino charging and stopped abruptly in front of her. He put the knife inches from her throat and I screamed. The scream was louder than the furious thunder and the frenzied, sheets of rain falling from the sky.  But it was too late. A scarlet bulbous drop of blood fell from the cut on the woman’s neck and she let out a gurgling choke, and was suddenly shocked into silence.

“What is the meaning of this violence?! I’m nine years old and I’ve never felt anymore disgust than what I feel right now!!! Put away those vile, disgusting, bloodthirsty, awful, foul, polluted weapons!!!” I railed at the wild animals I had learned to call my parents. He lowered his machete gradually with a fierce look on his face, and the ladies’ exhale of relief was heard.

The rain’s melody of music was a calming sound through the gloom. The thunder was a hushed rumble like the churning of my stomach. The lightning was a soft glow in the distance. The wind was a soft whisper through the trees. The storm clouds were receding into the night-like, fairytale of nature.

The woman sighed and sat down on the rocking chair and the man went and sat on the other side of the room on the couch. The glaring contest was not over yet. I walked to the big window and sat on the cold, bone chilling tiles and stared at the sky.

The storm clouds moved away rapidly and like a light bulb being turned on, the full moon’s radiance was cast upon me. I gazed at it in delight watching the incandescence, the luster, shine, and brilliance of the moon’s luminosity.

I let out an utter sigh of relief with a silent prayer that this episode of disaster would never happen again. My body responded with a sudden wave of exhaustion. I didn’t know how drained I was from the horrible day. I closed the blinds shutting out the picturesque scene of the moon’s soft beautiful rays of light, and got up from the and sluggishly walked down the hallway to my door. It opened with a creak and I went inside and closed the door, on this unforgettable, Christmas catastrophe.

Well, I don't know how good this is >.< . So please give me advice about it and comment!!!

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