Thunderstorms

I’ve never liked thunderstorms. I guess it’s just another symptom from childhood, except like the boogyman or the dark, this fear hasn’t disappeared. Astrapophobia, it's called. The fear of thunder and lightning.

It always seems to rain when it thunders. Why is that? The water doesn’t simply drizzle, it comes down in heavy showers that are seemingly loud enough to wake the dead. I’ve always thought that thunderstorms were terribly boisterous. Something about the noise of the thunder itself scares me. A low rumble like a giants empty stomach that erupts throughout the atmosphere. A force that, although can’t be seen, can shake through my skin and bones and tremble at my very core. It makes the windows rattle and the trees outside convulse and tremble in terror. Why am i afraid of something i can't even see?

My grandmother used to say that the noise was simply God moving his room around. He must have a lot of furniture in that case, I always thought. Apparently the number of seconds between claps of thunder indicates how many miles away the storm actually is. I’ve never been calm enough to count.

Lightning comes next. Vivid flashes of light that fill the sky, casting everything with a momentary neon glow. The glare was bright enough to make me shield my eyes. I’ve always believed lightning to be eerie yet something dangerously beautiful. The objective that electricity can strike and kill in a heartbeat. Lightning is like the visual partner, the extreme alternative that takes centre stage. Why am i afraid of something i can't even hear?

Everything works in harmony. Together. The crashing, drum-like thud of thunder. The flashing shock of lightning. Sound and sight, combined. It's a deadly concoction of power. That's why i'm afraid, i’m scared of this force.

I don’t like thunderstorms.

I stood there at my window, the glare of the clock on the bedside table flashing a dangerous shade of red; 03:11. I should be asleep, tucked within the covers. Carefree, with thoughts of childhood fears buried at the very back of my mind. Instead, i was stood here, my arms prickling unpleasantly as the clouds rumbled once more, with my pupils dilating as the lightning followed in quick succession with a blinding flash.

I gasped quietly as a pair of tattooed arms snaked their way around my shoulders, pulling me back into an embrace. His bare skin warmed me as he hugged me carefully from behind. I turned away from the storm and faced him. The lightning turned his skin a milky colour in the dark; faintly translucent and pale, mystical and beautiful. His dark hair fell tousled into his hazel eyes, which looked sleep-ridden and concerned.

"Frank?"

I sounded just like i had as a child; frightened and hushed.

He hugged me closer to his bare chest and whispered soothing words before leading me away from the window. He held me tighter as the storm continued to thrash violently on the other side of the glass, lighting the room ominously and seemingly shaking the very foundations of the house. We lay there under the covers, and he held me as i shivered slightly in fright. As he stroked my hair and whispered comforting words into my ear, the terror seemed to fade, and i eventually slipped into a quiet dreamland.

That night, laying in his comforting embrace, made me realise that thunderstorms weren’t so bad after all.