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Another Storm by Sarah James

The trees’ leaves are so drawn together that I can’t see the sky, though I can taste the thunderclouds’ static.

Everything silences. Then lightning strikes pierce through: long sizzling white snake tongues, sparking off the moss, bracken and muddy puddle at my feet.

The surface turns silver. I feel pulled to look closer.

I jump back, unsure what’s most disturbing – the fact that the surface remains silver, or that I have no reflection.

The puddle widens; earth cracks. Instead of moving away, I lean forwards, then over into the glistening silver as if I too were nothing but water and light.



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