It was a fiercely cold night in the east coast of Scotland. The wind was howling, like a dog baying at the moon. It seemed angry, loud as though it was seeking revenge for some ghastly event. With every gust the house getting less stable, windows shook, ornaments shuffled precariously towards new positions on the mantelpiece. I hesitantly held back the curtain and peered outside, there was no chance that it was going to clear soon. Then, like the shot of a gun, heavy pellets of snow plunged from the sky. They danced crazily around on the concrete patio, bouncing up and down yet not back and forth. They pinged melodically to the beat of an unknown tune. Plants and shrubs swayed to and fro like the throng of an excited audience. Not a person in sight, the whole street a deserted, dead, desolate place. The trees, hanging on to their roots for their dear lives. Swaying from side to side a metronome of forestation. The grass gasping for air as the snow suffocated its once lush strands. The whole scene, catastrophic.


From nowhere a percussion of loud drums and cymbals came booming from the sky. The ground shook. The dogs barked. The children screamed. It seemed inconceivable for the two elements to collide so violently. The thunder had boomed its way onto earth like an unwelcome visitor. Shaking the very foundations and fabric of the whole house. But thunder had brought a friend…lightening. It blazed it’s away above my head like a radiant shooting star from the Milky Way. Thunder and lightning competed with snow to take centre stage in the sky. Like two stags locking horns they both fought as hard and as loud as they could. The two would never normally meet head to head. Neither of them won, they were going to have to share the stage. The snow coming down harder than before. Thunder and lightning rumbling and streaking faster and louder than before. Ping. Bang. Spark. The whole sky came to a standstill and all at once the battle was over. The weather continued as if nothing had happened.