I take a deep breath of damp, dusty air. The first drop lands on my nose, tipped toward the sky. The next on my cheek. Soon, little pinpricks of rain plaster my hair to my head, seep through my cotton t-shirt. My lips turn up in a smile, and lightning flashes overhead. The silence is eerie as it is familiar. Branches thrash against the soundless wind that whips my hair across my face. The answering thunder reaches deep into my chest, like a long-dormant beast awakening at the first kiss of rain. Red flashes behind my closed eyelids and the earth rumbles again. Water crashes against my skin like ice against fire. I spread my arms, and rain drips off my fingertips. The ground grows soft; the grass sticks to my feet; my toes are wet. Reverberating thunder raises the hairs on my arms. My eyes closed, my arms spread, my clothing soaked, I welcome the force of nature as it surges forward with voiceless power.
So, how did I do? It's short, but you know what they say: less is more. And even with such a brief exercise, my fingers are now itching to write more. Therefore, I have proved the point that Rule Number One works. I also learned that I am far better at waxing poetic on a single instance than I am at interspersing my writing with descriptions of the quality found here. That's something I'm working on.
Feel free to try your own description and post it in the comments. You are also welcome to offer suggestions of your own.
Now I need to find a place in one of my stories to fit a thunderstorm...
