As I laid on my twin-sized bed,
eerie shadows writhed on my popcorn-textured wall.
An agonizing hushness urged their dances on,
and my room transformed into a theater for nature's horrors.
A gentle breeze wafted in,
slightly stirring my velvet green curtains,
the ripped and stringy chord knocked quietly on the scratched frame.
Outside, the towering oak tree with the pine
bat house, splattered with red and blue paint,
shook and shuttered as it surrendered
its will to the wind.
Terror-struck, I retreated to underneath
my Thomas the Tank Engine Blanket.
Patches of attempted repairs were evident on the
loved blanket,
and unimpressive threads barely managed to
hold the beautiful designs together.
A sudden crack of thunder sent me reeling off my wooden bed,
finding myself twisting the rusted doorknob,
granting access to my parent's room.
Surely they would let me sleep in their bed? Right?
I silently rush over to the edge of their bed, light snores escaping from
both their mouths.
I gingerly scaled the mammoth bed frame and smoothly
slid in between the two guardians. My protectors.
But the roaring of the thunder maintained its provoked rage,
booming and tumultuous like a deafening avalanche crashing
down a mountain.
As I lay on the oversized King bed,
silently praying for a swift slumber,
eerie shadows danced and writhed on their popcorn-textured wall.
An agonizing hushness urged them on,
My parent's room transformed into a theater for nature's horrors.
