the pouring rain was making the brown leaves wet. they fell of the trees like a harvest rhythm. saying goodbye to it’s roots and making it’s own way. the little birds were trying to find shelter. their wings were never gonna stop moving. their hearts were never going to stop beating for their survival. for their children.
he looked at the red apples lying on the wet grass. he used to collect them with his grandma. she would make juice out of the red apples. the green ones she would eat with him.
tears were falling down his face when the thunder began. it was louder when he stood by his open window. he wanted to close it and make the tears stop. but he loved the sound of the pouring rain. but hated the sound of the thunder.
the lighting came. he couldn’t decide if he loved or hated the lighting. it was so beautiful but had caused so many people sorrow. and was causing so many people fear right now. even himself.
it lit up the dark night sky, and made the mountains stand out from the darkness. he was scared, oh so scared. the fear was rolling down his cheeks, but kept coming back, and kept going away. the sounds made him so sad. it ruined the sound of the pouring rain. it made the young birds scream out in fear for their mothers and fathers.
he cried over his grandma. she hadn’t collected the red and green apples for years now. she couldn’t. he was sure that she wanted to, but she couldn’t reach them.
she was out of reach even for him.
she was gone in the pouring rain, taken away by the scary thunder sounds and lighting making him feel so much sorrow.