Tempest

The young man had always felt personally threatened by storms.

He had often been told how silly the idea was by just about everyone that found out about it. People would point out that it was only an aspect of nature and in no way was it directed at an individual. Everyone, that is, except his father, who had used his fear of storms to discipline him saying that it was sent to admonish him for not doing his homework or for having an untidy bedroom or any other thing he could think of at the time.

This night, the storm that raged outside with its bright flashes and deafening thunderclaps seemed to be testimony to his beliefs.

The knife, his bloody hands and his father’s body had made the raging tempest particularly angry with him.

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