Summer

The rain tapped the windowsill gently before the thunder implored it fell harder as through the open window came the cold smell of the storm, raindrops came inside glistening, the windowsill now applauding.

It was the aftermath of a hurricane (across the Atlantic) that had turned the English summer on its head. “We haven’t seen the likes of it in August before.” came a voice from downstairs.

The garden, which had been filled with shouting children, was now bowing in the force of the storm. The children watched from the bedroom window. The rain became so fierce they pretended they were out at sea, the water striking the side of the boat. I’ll be Captain!” said the boy. “I’ll be a pirate” said his sister. I’m gonna go and play on the computer” said the youngest.

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