Weather
Thick clouds are waiting to open up, waiting to spill, spilling all the water that they had collected on their travels. As morning comes the atmosphere turns heavy, thunder crashes and lightning strikes. The rain starts to pour down onto the village streets and small streams of water start to cascade down the narrow roads and footpaths. The birds take refuge into the trees fighting against the wind and then reaching their shelter into the woods with the rest of their friends. Umbrellas pop up like springs, everyone trying to avoid the torrential rains.
Beyond all the trees, people and animals, the building stands strong and sturdy. The growling of the thunder does not affect them and they provide warmth for the hurrying people. The Rain hits like a hammer on the muddy grounds. It quickly attacks the area flooding it within seconds. As a strong blast from the sky hits, forcing over trees crashing to the ground, you hear the “bang” and “CRASH” of the trees too weak to survive the wrath of the winds.
The harsh rain attacks the village hall but it stands strong and people take refuge in it. The clouds cover over the earth like a blanket, for hours on end, but the thunder slowly retreats back to the skies and collects themselves back home.
Tilly (8G)
Rumblings
The fluffy, unilluminated clouds floated restlessly in the gloomy Southern Asian night sky. Sat beneath, stretched the endless barren plains of Cambodia. A rumble, blaring thunder, fulminated above the stretch of crusty plains. A cataclysmic crash of thunder rumbled deafeningly, louder than a colossal convoy of tremendous trucks.
Drip… drip… drip… the clouds opened and let out a flourish of rain cascading towards the ground penetrating the crusty surface of Cambodian flats. The sky, rife with thunder, bellowed then threw up an abrupt wave of lightning which lit the sky. Flash! A second shimmering bolt of lightning hit a small gathering of withered trees which burst alive into flames. Red, Orange, White. An overhauling smell of ash and fire burning passionately.
The rain, unrelenting, quenched the flames and seeped through the penetrated cracks in the plains. Vast hailstones, the size of golf balls, pelted down vigorously. An overcast sky smothered the flats which became ridden with wet rain. The sun, gold like an Olympic winners medal, rose upon the horizon as the black clouds faded away and the rain ceased.
Barnaby (8G)
A Winter Wonderland
Like birds’ wings, my eyes flap open and slam shut being blinded by a great white light revealing the gift of nature, the crisp beauty of elegance and softness, a winter wonderland. Icy icicles hang helplessly from the windows overhang and so most of your view is blocked forcing you to wander into icy heaven. The snow is a blanket for the lifeless grass below, every flake of snow laid down is close to perfection. The snow lay dispersed on the lawn, and you’re stuck in a freezer surrounded by vanilla ice cream. With blurs of sparkling whiteness like piles of miniscule diamonds. One step. One crunch.
The frost sat in lazy stillness on the vertical edges of walls and plant pots. Scents of icy cold and ringing of the loud silence and then the occasional chirp of birds imprinting their petite feet into the shawl of snow. The landscape can be deceitful though, with the looks of grace, dignity and sophistication, the ice can be cruel, harsh, agonizing. There was nothing to see except shimmery blankness relying on impeccable detail to create perfection.
Colossal, boney hands with crystals cling on to the slippery surface of the branches, and the creamy fluff perched gently onto the edges. A tap, a nudge would send the icicles crashing down to pierce the ground and the snow to fall and drown in itself.
A winter wonderland.
Jess (8G)
It Began
It began. A dreary drizzle cascaded half-heartedly through the empty waterlogged field. Water droplets began to settle turning into shallow puddles scattered carelessly across the endless grassland. As swamp water quickly appeared making the already dodgy footpath unwalkable. The once condensed mud turned into unescapable gooey sludge, which swallowed footwear like sinking sand. That was the death of all shoes walking through that unforgiving field. Wellingtons would sink deep into the many layers of mud making the dark concoction seep into the base of the boots. And with no escape now, the vomit worthy sensation trickles through the unprepared victim.
After the dizzle, comes the storm. Lengthy and unpredictable. First came the torrential rain which pelted down like a firing squad. The sky, a shade of majestic purple, making hell fall down on all below. The repetitive ripples swam through the growing ponds creating a dominoes effect, caused by a single rogue rain drop. The sound of a minute splash, and the tumbling of water dripping down your crippled back grows a tingling sensation down the nimble spine.
Wind. The final but most deadly. It whips ears and slices cheeks leaving behind a red splodge which will keep you cold for hours to pass. The wind spirals round your slowly deteriorating body and consumes all heat left within. Until the territorial wind forces you off the field. The waterlogged field. That’s how it began.
Phoebe (8G)
The White of the North
The whiteout has occurred, the world is covered in snow. The town is bleached, the mountains featureless. The gentle snow that we once knew has become our enemy. The dogs are just floating snouts of different colours churning in the snow. The statues are frozen, their features removed.
The sleet piercing the skin like the needles of nature. The frozen wind blocks up your lungs losing air, losing life. The snow is coming, chomping its teeth like an unforgiving machine spreading frostbite wherever it goes, leaving smells that dry the nose.
You can taste the snowflakes, bitter like defeat. The soft fingers of snow creeping down the backbone of its next victim.
The small brick house with soot coming from the chimney, black, mourning the death of the people to the monster of the north. Even now it is still hunting, stalking, killing.
The whiteout has occurred.
Jamie (8G)
