Describing thunder and lightning is made easy with this post. This is an extract from ‘Writing with Stardust’, now on Amazon. It is the ultimate descriptive guide for students and teachers and there is a workbook also. I hope you enjoy the post.
To view the full chapter free in PDF, click here: THUNDER AND LIGHTNING
To get further information on my books, just click on the book images at the bottom of the post.
Describing Thunder and Lightning
The autumn sky was as bright as Zeus’ eyes. Narry a cloud blemished its bliss-blue complexion and the sun was like a glowing medallion pinned to a sheet of white paper. I ambled through the meadow, enjoying its peaceful air and the way it seemed to stretch into eternity. The grass was fairyland-green and the gentle swish of the blades, swaying to and fro, was hypnotic. It was like autumn’s dreamscape.
In the centre of this large vale, quite some distance away, was a wizened oak tree. Its gnarled and hoary girth lay under a tangled old man’s beard of leaf and bough. In a far-away field, stilt-legged lambs gambolled and frolicked with each other in merry innocence.
I decided to rest my weary head for a while and let the spiritual beauty of this Jerusalem of nature seep into me further. Resting my head on my knapsack, I drifted away into infinity, letting the locked-away memories of joyful times steal into my dreams. A drowsy smile played on my lips and I floated into slumberland.
When I woke up, the sky was as black as the devil’s soul. The world became cellar-dark and the buckling, heaving sky looked fit to collapse down on top of me. Then there was an explosion like a sonic boom and I feared for my safety. Doom-black clouds, pregnant with malice, churned and roiled. They looked as vaporous as mist and as fleecy as black wool.
I made it to the oak tree just in time. A clanking sound could be heard from the sky. It was if a huge anvil was being dragged across the vault of heaven against its will. Branched lightning lit up the Stygian sky. Buzzing and hissing, they trembled with the anger of being shackled to the sky since time began.
Then it hit the tree. Lightning is the megawatt smile of nature, but there was nothing friendly about the terrawatts of violence it unleashed. It hit the shaggy head of the tree with an explosion of branched lightning-flame that shook the old man to his core.
My own heart wasn’t doing too well either. My left ear was on the ground, my eyes looking at the world fron an ant’s point of view. Wreaths of steam were rising slowly from the oak, all that was left of its soul. I could smell the sweet, sickly smell of singed grass and the faint perfume of scorched clothes told me I was in trouble. The quote from Mussolini came to me again, and although I strained my ears to hear, all I cold hear from the fields next door, before drifting away, was the silence of the lambs.
For much more of the above, please check out my book Writing with Stardust (which is now available on Amazon) by clicking on any of the book images below.