The Calm after the Storm

She could not believe such calm could exist after the storm the previous day. Now, there was only stillness, a glistening vista as far as she could see.
She had often gone out bundled up against the offending weather, to walk down the promenade and watch the storms. Yesterday, however, she had taken her puppy to the pier for a walk and, unbelievably, the storm had trapped them there, whipping up to a frenzy in no time.
It was an angry, livid and vicious production of pure nature, pouring its venom into the tumultuous, crashing waves, pounding against the pier, spewing forth froth like a dragon hissing fire, fine white spray like volcanic ash splattering over the bolted white plastic chairs standing firm as soldiers to attention in the midst of an artillery raid. She marvelled at the sheer ferocity of the thunder coupled with the deafening roar of the ocean in all her glory. Her attention was snapped far out to sea where the lightning spat across the horizon, crackling, hissing and strobe lighting the whole annihilating process.
Suddenly a gargantuan wave heaved its way on to the pier, crashing down on to the wooden slats, obliterating everything in sight for a few seconds, hissing as it bubbled and frothed in retreat, and she realized her hold on her puppy’s lead was much lighter; she looked down to find that all she was, in fact, holding on to was a lead and collar – either the waves had taken Daisy or she had slipped her collar and bolted. Cursing her foolishness for putting her pup in such danger she screeched for help.
Some of the more hardy staff on the pier helped her to search, until the pier lights were dimmed and they could see no longer. She returned home deflated, depressed and guilt ridden at her fruitless attempt. After an impossible night’s sleep, she was dimly aware of a milk float chugging outside as she got up to greet her husband from his night shift. She had thrown herself into his arms and sobbed out the whole story between great heaving gulping breaths. Bless him, he comforted her as best he could and suggested they go back for one last search.
Now, looking over the pier railings, everything was serene and she felt her husband’s arm pulling her close as his kind words washed over her, comforting her. The first shiny golden claws of the sun were about to grip the horizon and dawn was fast approaching. She was dimly aware that the metal railings felt icy cold as she gripped them so hard that her knuckles were white. Suddenly she felt something cold nuzzle her ankle, and a short sharp bark brought her out of her reverie. She looked down to find her lost puppy skittering about at her ankles, covered in sand and seaweed, tail wagging and a look of sheer glee on her face to have found her mistress. She was a bit the worse for wear, somewhat bedraggled and very hungry, but in all, no worse for her ordeal. And now she could add swimming to her list of tricks.

The Calm after the Storm


Canterbury, United Kingdom

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 9

Artist's Description

Short story taken from a black and white postcard about a woman taking her puppy on to the pier in a storm.
Ideally this piece was practice in descriptive adjectives and as always is meant to conjur up very strong visual images for the reader.

Artwork Comments

  • izzybeth
  • Valerie Rosen
  • iWars
  • Arcadia Tempest
  • Gortsmum
  • Teacup
  • Gortsmum
  • LisaBeth
  • Gortsmum
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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