A Ghost Story

Chapter 7

Over the next week, thoughts of the mysterious Caroline drifted away like dandelion seeds in the wind. Eileen didn't talk about her anymore either. She had been a passing distraction, a passing sight to marvel at, like an unusually pink and glorious sunset.

Only one more interesting thing happened before the school year ended, and it occurred, of course, during a thunderstorm.

It was May 25, just past 12 A.M.. I was awakened by a crack of thunder—the fantastic, houseshaking kind of crack that makes your bed tremble. I was filled with an electric thrill as I sat up in bed and unshut my eyes. Lightning flashed to illuminate the shaggy oak tree outside my window, whose shadows painted my bedroom walls with intricate designs, and I felt like I was just a wallflower watching as ancient monsters battled each other.

But I knew I was safe and sound inside the deceptive transparency of the window, that no monsters or rain or lightning would be able to reach into my bedroom and hurl me out into the weather. It was a wonderful feeling.

Yes, I thought to myself. I really do love thunderstorms.

For a long time, I sat lost in awe and wonder, listening as the rain relentlessly pounded on the roof.

I came out of my trance when a fork of lightning suddenly demolished an unfortunate tree just about 100 meters from my window.

For a moment, there was the gut wrenching noise of the fibers of the tree ripping apart. And then there was a majestic crash of sound that made my window rattle and made my bed frame creak like old bones. I shrieked in surprise and delight and I fell off my bed into a heap on the wooden floor.

That had been a thrill.

When I looked out the window, hoping to see the tree which had been mercilessly cracked in two, I couldn't find it.

It was like the philosophical question: if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to see it, did it really fall?

Something inside of me was yearning to see that wickedly jagged stump pointing at the sky like a javelin, to see the rest of it lying on the ground in a testament to the power of the lightning. Some part of me was dying to witness to the insignificance and powerlessness of the human race when compared to the natural forces of the world.

And so, for the second time in the month of May, I found myself running out into a pouring shower of rain, chasing a gut instinct.