Levi W.

Tribe of Judah

Age 14

 

The Rain

Twas a dark and stormy night, timid faces peeped out the window as lightning slashed across the darkened sky, consuming man and beast alike. A screaming shadow hurtled across the ominous landscape, clouding all reasonable thought. Undetermined was the source or origin to an indolent awareness of the predetermined nature of the individual. Gone was the sense of calm understanding between grass and camper. An ominous forbearance of doom and suffering covered all aspects of happiness and security. The flapping of the voluminous rain sweater cut through the icy wind, freezing hearts and minds. Life sauce dripping down his brow, heart palpitating in his chest, the wee lad slipped and fell, flattening the once round earth with a mighty quake. And then I woke up and realized that the rain was not simply confined to my sleeping hours but that it was STILL raining at Camp Gilgal.