“They’d thought he was dead when they found him among the other bodies in the terraced house. He’d lost a great deal of blood, gone into a state of shock, and hadn’t regained consciousness until seven hours later. He was the only surviving witness. Detective Joona Linna was certain that the boy would be able to provide valuable information, possibly even identify the killer.” (pg. 1-2 The Hypnotist by Lars Kepler)
This afternoon started off being a quintessentially summer vacation moment where I found myself lounging in the sunshine on my couch with my iPad reading a graphically suspenseful Danish murder mystery that had sucked me in so far into the plot that I didn’t notice the sun spot I was sitting in had vanished and the sky had turned ominously grey. Suddenly, just when the villain had escaped the confines of the hospital by killing the nurse on duty
a flash of lightning and deafening thunder. Sneaking up on me like a prankster with a blown up paper bag.
I don’t like lightning storms.
Most people I know view them as little shots of adrenalin gothically romantic in nature. Not me. Especially if I happen to be alone. I never used to be this way. I used to view thunder and lightning rather indifferently. Natural events that merely happen. But then, as a young adult, I witnessed lightening hit a level ditch in our back yard and start a fire. A fire that, because of the wind, started following the ditch dangerously fast towards the house. Thank goodness the heavens opened up and the rain came down in a torrent to squelch the flames.
Then, years later as I was watching the light show outside my condo window lightening hit a light pole right in front of me. A SNAP and POW loud enough to straighten spines across the county. The smell of electricity and burnt metal was nauseating.
Sooooo, last night when I was so rudely disrupted by the chaotic goings on of mother nature outside I did what most people with my experience with storms would do…I shut all my blinds, unplugged all my electronic devices and sat on my bed and listened to my iPod
But last night these precautions were not enough. No. The rain pelted my window with a force worthy of Lear’s storm. And there was no time for any “Mississippis” between the flash of the lightning and the bang of the thunder. The storm
and rattling like a caged monster at my window panes.
Now, I’ll admit this only to you dear readers, I actually scuttled into the only room in my home without a window and shut the door. And propping my back against my tub I turned the music of my iPod as high as it could go. Now, just to prove I’m not a complete chicken poop I DID take my iPad in with me. I mean if the adrenaline was up I might as well sustain it for a while,
so I kept company with a psychopathic serial killer while the storm raged outside.
And you know what? He was pretty good company and kept my mind off of lightning strikes and inefficient storm sewers.
The storm passed within a few minutes and I slowly opened the bathroom door to check if any flowerpots had been blown off my balcony or if any water had seeped in my windows. But all was fine, as I knew deep within my bones it would be.
now it was dark outside and I had another fear beginning to niggle in the recesses of my mind. Did I remember to lock my patio door? What if someone had found refuge from the storm under my eaves? And what if that someone was running from the police and climbed up and through that door I didn’t lock and was now hiding in and amongst my belongs, lying in wait…..
Nope. After a quick but thorough scan and a chuckle to myself I settled back onto my couch, window open to let in the refreshing rain quenched air and I finished my adventure with a wonderful feeling of resolution.