In the early hours of the morning I wake up. 3 AM says the clock. But what does a number know at all? Deep and dark is night and the wind blows so strong that the branches of the big old tree are cracking as if they were matches to lit a cigarette. The storm has arrived. As a big massive lad, who carries a whip in his right hand and now leashes out as long as he likes to do. A patient man he is. Strong willed and with no mercy for the trees, hedges, flower-pots and bird’s nests he stands there considering himself superior.
Even the old lantern, flicker only weak as if out of breath. Of an old book, my grandmother read to me when I was a child I think. I can’t remember his title and have no idea, who the author might have been. But I still remember as if it was just yesterday, the colorful pictures and my fascination of them. Particularly one story sticks with me, a tale of storm and tempest. Two children, a boy and a girl, both well- dressed in a duffle coat or some similar kind of cloak, climbed during one stormy afternoon on the window sill, held each other with their hands, opened two umbrellas and off they went, carried by a storm as heavy and strong as I noticed last night. The girl lost her hat, the boy, a shoe, but both git red cheeks and excited eyes, as they went over villages and twins, crossed the sea, some mountains, a desert and much more things I in the meantime all forgot. But last night I thought of them and wished, I could as well open an umbrella and the storm would open his arms to carry me far, far away to another, brighter place. But instead, the clock said 4 AM by then, I went back into bed and listened further to the storm and before I fell into sleep again I watched out, if a boy and girl, both with their umbrellas wide open, would appear for a short while in front of my window before being carried away, further and further into a future still unknown.

5 thoughts on “Storm

  1. There are strong feelings of yearning and sadness in this piece, all encompassed in the storm. It’s wonderfully evocative writing. Thank you for doing iit and sharing it with us.

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