Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Midnight Storm

I lie awake at night, listening to the sound of rain striking the tin roof with a machine gun's rat-a-tat. The wind howls like a wounded dog that's begging for mercy - or perhaps for the painless release of death. Occasionally thunder - like a hundred bowling balls simultaneously knocking over a thousand pins to score perfect strikes across the board - rattles the window panes of my bedroom.

I'm not afraid of storms. Really, I'm not. It's just, I can't help but wondering...Maybe that's not really a storm! Maybe it's really the bogeyman doing sound effects!

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