STORM CLOUDS

 

STORM CLOUDS

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said, “Clear the air.”

I got my coat – I’d be safer with people around.

But the seafront was deserted, and I didn’t know which was worse – the black storm clouds threatening thunder, or his black mood with its undertone of violence.

He dragged me along and I stumbled, banging my knee on the railing. “Don’t be such a wimp,” he said, striding ahead, and I ducked into a shelter just as the storm hit.

The flash was so bright I didn’t see him fall.

I waited to be sure before I called the ambulance.

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A perfectly violent ending for a violent man - I must be feeling in a murderous mood today :)  Thanks to Na'ama Yehuda for the atmospheric photograph, and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers indefatigably for so many years.

We are all hoping for the recovery from ill health of Ted Strutz, one of our number who supplied last week's prompt. Get well soon, Ted.