This is a little something I wrote as a writing exercise for my literature. The goal was to use the same event, and make contrasting moods.
I used an unnamed, fictitious storm for my muse--I cannot deny the fact that I use Lightning Literature didn't give me the idea! ;)
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Can you not see the light? It streaks across the sky with high-spirited fires, wild as young colts loosed from their halters. Rolling beats, cascading drums, and din thunderclap resonate, all from their hooves as they gallop above the gray clouds, out of sight, taken up by the freedom and great power of youth! The rain leased to water the earth is healing, guided by nursing winds that play in the branches of verdant trees---existing as an ocean of breeze that sings in clandestine melody about purity and escape. The summer is lush, unhindered by poverty or misfortune. The tempest is glorious, and can lend only thrilling ecstasy as the lightning strikes animated shadows on the ground; to watch them play is to eye graceful characters, fearless and full of whimsical buoyancy, as they dance about the brambles and wild roses, bejeweled by blithe rain.
Can you not see the light? Hell sent, headlights charged to cast cruel shadows among cold, searching tree branches that extend with wooden fingers into the gloom. The sky is dark, marred only by the fierce, heinous lightning, and the summer-warm rain feels only like blood shed on the earth.
Lost red flowers, lying overtaken by rank thorns and untamed black brambles, drip with tasteless tears. The wind is hissing, scheming, and surmounting, causing demolition among the greenish, crippled birch leaves, which flash pale underbellies in ardent, crying submission. Fear tingles in the body, electric as the skittish light, striking deep chords of ancient terror inside, unheard over the powerful, husky rumbling of some sinister dragon---laying in wait among the smoky clouds breathed from its harsh throat.
~
