Before The Storm

prompt: "A storm destroys your uncle's shed and kills his six year old son. Describe the color of the sky rights before the storm hit" -"642 things to write about" by the San Francisco writers' grotto

I peered up at the deadly ceiling this world has covered us in. The world had stopped. I heard not the alarm wailing. Not the people tearing my ears in all directions. Nor the sound of homes being ripped from their roots. All I saw was a calm blanket of clouds wrinkled with fear and laced with potential to kill. A green haze covered the scene. The frenzy was beauty. The type of beauty that holds a knife so sharp and shiny that it will pierce you with loss and tears. But not before you are mesmerized by its facade.