The Storm in Clicheville

 

The Storm in Clicheville

by Danny C. Wash

It was a dark and stormy night in Clicheville.

There had been no calm before the storm.

I was scared out of my wits.

I was frightened to death.

I didn’t want to be dead as a doornail from the lightning.

I saw a bolt strike and it was a near miss.

But lightning never strikes twice, 

However, that was cold comfort.

It was raining cats and dogs and dark as pitch.

The wind was blowing ninety miles an hour.

It was howling like a banshee.

The thunder was loud enough to wake the dead.

And the water was five feet high and rising.

My hopes were dashed and fading fast.

I was in a real pickle. My back was against the wall.

I was at the end of my rope between a rock and a hard place.

I was about to throw in the towel as I lost track of time.

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

But every storm cloud has a silver lining.

And then it was the crack of dawn.

I looked out and, low and behold, I had weathered the storm.

Out of the blue, a south wind began to blow. 

And it’s an ill wind that blows no good.

The water was gone and I was in the clear.

The storm had blown over.

As far as the eye could see it was bone dry

All’s well that ends well when you look on the bright side.

Life goes on, so I went to bed and slept like a baby or was it a log.