Skip to main content

Thunderstorm

Written By

Thunderstorm

 By Natalia S.N.


   Thunder could have been heard, but no one was there to hear it.  No clouds were in the sky, yet—Just thunder. No lighting either. The signal for rain; the alarm of the thunderstorm: thunder.
                     As dark clouds rolled in, cold wind rushed through the ruins searching for someone to hug. The trees of the near forest shivered at the signal for rain.
                     Then came the smell. The rich smell of wet dirt, announcing the coming of the rain.          Though no one was there to smell it, it came behind the wind. The smell settled on the chosen area while the wind flew around. The Rain clouds came along filled with raindrops. Then, those clouds let the raindrops fall.  The raindrops caught the dirt as they fell upon more dirt, which they turned into mud.  Down they came cleaning up the place; tidying all things until they were swimming in the small puddles that were already becoming streams.
                     Raindrops became more violent in their hurry to fall. The Dark clouds and the Rain clouds filled the skies, the latter busy making supplementary raindrops.  As in some thunderstorms, the Lighting arrived late.  The First Thunder, whose job is only to sound the alarm, was already in its way to the next place awaiting the thunderstorm. The Second Thunder came leaping with the lighting; thus, the storm became extremely fierce with their presence. 
                     The trees were almost jumping out of the ground with each lighting and thunder. Their branches were shaken furiously by the rushing wind that blew away the fallen leaves.
                     At last, the Dark clouds started to depart, following the path that First Thunder had left. The wind noticed and gave chase excitedly.  As the wind caught up with the clouds, she became calmer. The smell of wet dirt followed slowly after the wind.

                     Tired of making raindrops, the rain clouds stopped to make them and started on the journey. Finally, the Second Thunder and the lighting, best friends ever, departed after finishing a show of lights and sound. The trees were finally peaceful in their clean home that the thunderstorm had left. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Más Vistos

Recomendaciones de Libros

Written By
Esta es una lista de libros que recomendaría para impulsar el hábito de la lectura. Para los más chicos incluyo libros de ficción que ayudarían a crear ese interés. Pero para los más grandes sólo presento los más clásicos o libros de reflexión y aprendizaje, ya que hay muchas series y crónicas de ficción/entretenimiento. A todos nos gusta leer, sólo tenemos que encontrar el libro perfecto. No existe tal cosa como tener demasiados libros   Para Pequeños Lectores Empezando a Leer Bizcocho, De la serie: Ya sé Leer, Editorial Rayo Camilón Comilón, Ana María Machado Biografías Fanny Crosby: Queen of Gospel Songs-  Rebecca Davis  Héroes para Pequeños Lectores:   C.S. Lewis, Corrie ten Boom, Jim Elliot, entre otros. Ficción Historica -  Para Complementar la Materia de Historia One Grain of Rice: A Mathematical Folktale The Golden Sandal: A Middle Eastern Cinderella Story,  Rebecca Hickox Gilgamesh the King,  ...
4 comments
Read more

Microrrelato: Señor de los Girasoles

Written By
Todos los días veía a un señor parado en la esquina. Vendía girasoles. Llegaba temprano con sus zapatos cafés bien lustrados, pantalones ajustados con un cinturón de piel y camisa blanca bien planchada. Una sonrisa iluminaba su cara arrugada cada vez que alguien pasaba. Ofrecía sus flores a cualquiera: parejas, solteros y niños. Al final, cuando el sol se escondía detrás de la residencia de enfrente, él hacía descansar las cubetas en su carreta. Pero estaban llenas de flores. Flores cabizbajas, el mismo número que había traído en la mañana … todas, menos una. Ese girasol en la mano tiesa del señor ya tenía dueño, pues era un regalo. Lo seguí por las sombras. Sus pasos hicieron crujir el suelo por diez minutos de camino. Y al final, el girasol llegó a descansar en la piedra fría de una tumba. María del Sol. Y con su último suspiro, las últimas gotas de vida,  la flor levantó su rostro hacia el nombre. El señor siguió su camino para desaparecer en la oscuridad ...
1 comment
Read more