The Storm
The sound of rain filled my ears. It must have been raining cats and dogs or dogs at least. I could hear the howling in the wind. The lightning cracked and hissed. It was the worst storm I could remember.
There was no hope of sleeping so I sat down at my desk to write. My writing is populated with storms and monsters and the people who create them. It disturbs even me. I jump at every crack of lightning.
I have to thank the storm, my muse for the evening, even though my eyes are heavy with sand by the time the storm and my writing have ceased. I will reread my story in the morning.
The next morning I sat down to read my story, although I am certain it will be no good, having been so tired the evening before. It is surprisingly good. There are just a few grammatical and punctuation errors to correct.
I find that I have fallen in love with my monster and can’t wait to share him with my group of writing friends. I put the story away until we meet again.