Summer Storm
By Terry Wynne // The back-yard furniture lay strewn across the soggy lawn. Sheets of horizontal rain sprouted through the open screen windows. Harry’s pants and shirt were drenched as he slammed each window shut. Overhead, the tempest pressed downward, the storm roiling only a few hundred feet above. Lighting crackled, not from a distance, but from nearby, seeming a matter of a few hundred steps. He felt the woof of power leaking and then… See more
