Frances Koziar
The Storm
The sky exploded.
For a moment Ahmar couldn’t see. Everything was white; everything was shaking. It was like the end of the world.
John grabbed his arm and was trying to pull him into the house. If anything less was at stake, he would have gone inside.
"Where is she?" he shouted again. He was soaked already, his body still shaking from the thunder.
"I don’t know," John yelled back. “I don’t even know her. Come inside. You always do something like this when it storms,” he pleaded. “You’re going to get killed!”
But Ahmar had pulled back out of reach. John was looking at him as if he were crazy, as if he were a wild animal. But she was outside. He knew it.
He turned and fled into the storm.
He slipped on a root and fell, and the sky erupted again. He pressed his hands to his ears but the sound quaked through his body. Every other moment, the sky lit up with lightning. It was evening, but it might have been noon.