open . STORMY NIGHT
He didn't like this. He didn't like it one bit. The pounding rain slamming against the window pain; thunder booming every other minute, and with it a blinding flash of lightning. It was cold. It was dreary. It was scary. William did not like storms. And this was a BIG one.
Kneeling on his Da's chair, the little boy watched the poor window with growing anticipation, his chest pounding with anxiety every time another bolt of light struck down somewhere in the city of London. Another BOOM, CRASH. He clung his Charlie bear close, and his blanket even tighter.
All of a sudden, a loud CRACK and pop, then a shatter of glass cascading to the kitchen floor not far away. And just as the light bulb had burst, so did the power go out through the rest of the flat, 221b Baker St. swept into darkness. "Aah!" The little boy let out a shriek, a curdled scream as he ducked down behind the chair backing, burying his head in the cushions. "Da- !" Calling out with tears nearing his eyes, voice muffled by the fabric in which he hid, hoping it might protect him.