- I don't know if this really qualifies as a poem, maybe it's more of a short story, but thanks for reading it anyway. -
The pot bubbled. As the stew continued to heat up, the mixture began to jump. The bubbles popped, releasing drops of tomato sauce into the air. The drops splattered all over the sandy-white stove, staining it dark red. By the end, nearly the entire stovetop was red with spots of tomato sauce. So much for the calm before the storm.
The crash of the car door slamming thundered throughout the house. It sent a chill through the spines of all the inhabitants. I walked to the thermostat and turned the temperature up. The goose bumps formed by the cold disappeared; however, some remained. These had arisen from the fear instilled by the anticipated future. I slopped some of the stew onto a plate, turned off the heat and sprinted to the bedroom. I opened the closet door and snuck inside. Shutting the door, I sat down, eating in the dark, silently, to disappear before the storm hit.
The front door slammed shut and simultaneously, the downpour of precipitation began outside. Then I heard the thunder. Their voices cut through the walls like a fallen icicle piercing through a pile of powdered snow. I heard them as vividly as if they were right beside me. My distraction had run out; the food was gone. I listened intently, waiting for the yelling to subside. The rain continued to pound on the roof, with no sign of stopping. These storms had been coming every night for a while now, but had been growing progressively more thunderous recently. Then the rain stopped. After waiting five minutes, I emerged from my shelter to inspect the damage. My timing was fatally wrong.
The crash of a branch breaking out side signalled the presence of an unfinished storm, but it was too late. They had seen me. My father beckoned for me to approach. I shook my head, turned and ran. The rage of the storm heightened. As he yelled for me to return, two more thunderbolts crashed down before I had the chance to take another breath. By now, the yelling had begun to lower in decibels. The rain outside turned to snow. Now lying in bed, I quickly pulled the blankets over my head and lay motionless as I heard my bedroom door creak open. My mother softly called me out. Tonight's storm had ended.
