Short Story

All day long Orloff had paced his cell. The blackness of the sky outside was equaled only by the blackness of his thoughts. The deep rolling of the thunder reverberated through the thick stone walls of his prison, and every now and then a fitful gust of rain swirled through the tiny broken window, wetting his face as he stared out into the night. Orloff cursed, wiped the water from his face with his grimy fingers, and turned to pacing his cell once more.

“He suddenly lost concern for himself, and forgot to look at a menacing fate. He became not a man but a member. He felt that something

The chill of winter air had nudged her from her slumber. Gazing through the window upon the dreary horizon, the blur of gray told Hulga that rain was nearing. Nervously, she backed into the corner away from the window and curled up next to a pile of hay and settled in. Soon after repositioning herself, Hulga heard the consistent patter of rain on the roof of the barn. Her eyes watered as she wondered if her mother had been frantically searching for her.

From my room,I had smelt and sensed that rain was about to  arrive and had scurried outside before the drops commenced.Sweet anticipation formed inside as I awaited the blissful raindrops to pelt me on my face and body.The wind rose higher and grew frighteningly violent,swirling throwing rocks and gravel into the air.The thin

His mother had warned of rain. It was in the forecast, she had said in her small, fretting voice. She had urged him to wear his raincoat and to take his umbrella, but he had forgotten the umbrella in the rush of leaving, and how he thought of the five blocks he would have to walk from the Omni station to the Century National Bank, and of the morning crowd that would push against him in its hurried dash through the fine mist of the rain that had begun during the train ride from Decatur.

Up to now, the sky had been scattered powder-puff clouds, but it was changing. The sky that looked like beautiful ribbons, all a different shade of blue was now beginning to look like a blanket of darkness. The storm clouds thickened and out of the blue a wave heavy rain poured in torrents. I was lucky enough to get the first splatter of rain on my sweater when I was about 3 steps away from the building my class was being held in. I ran into the building while the rain turned the sidewalks and roads into vast lakes of dull, muddy water. I can’t emphasis to you how relieved I felt missing the downpour of all the rain. Dark smoky clouds covered the sky, only letting a few streaks of sun slip past the barrier. The repetitious sound of raindrops striking against the windowpane blended in with the occasional thunder that roared every 20 seconds. Everything was bleak, gray, and gloomy the class atmosphere felt dispirited than it usually was during exam week. People walked with water trickling down behind them while they steadily strolled to their seat. The prof didn’t start right away knowing that students were going to need a little more time getting to class. The thunderstorm was now beginning to sound like gunshots to ones ear…the uneasy feeling was

It wasn’t a good day. Thick blackened clouds hovered over the town. It brought down heavy rain, with large distinguishable drops. The silence from fear was disrupted by the large roaring thunder. The tents allowed water to drip inside, the gusting wind caused the tents to dance in the wind.

Rich’s imagery here evokes an atmosphere of having limited choices in protecting one’s self against an isolating and emotionless world. Rich draws on the notion that the wind holds a brutal force as the antagonist of the poem, as the voice of the poem is a passive onlooker, not participating or being as the self cannot work out how to reclaim their existence. Just as change occurs in Human life and we cannot control it, another unavoidable change in the weather due to the onslaught of a storm is something we can also not govern. This draws connections with Richs links to instruments that supposedly predict the weather, cannot, however, or event or provide a proof against this strain no matter how many times tried. No instrument is a “proof against the wind” or against a powerful storm, but can foresee and measure such change. All that stands between Richs speaker and the outside change is the glass of the windows which has been “falling all afternoon”, shattered by the forces of nature. This breakable glass suggests how vulnerable humans are. The poet also realises that humans are fairly helpless, unable to stop the rising wind, only able to take minor defensive action such as closing shutters. This cold and isolating “troubled region”

I feel as if the rains wash away my problems that have been following me around. I sense a new beginning, a feeling of renewal washes over me as the cool rain droplets hit my face. Despite the loud angry siren slicing through the air, a calm blanket wraps around me, the excitement from earlier is long gone. As I scan my surroundings and I’m reminded that this is my home, it always has been and always will

“Storm Warnings,” true to its literal subject matter, possesses flowy sweeping syntax created by the strategic use of commas and phrasing to draw parallels between the physical oncoming winds and the gales of life. The author crafts a long run-on sentence that spans the first stanza and carries on into the latter portion of the second to mirror the continuous flowing of windy weather and the forward motion of life. Once the speaker notices the brewing storm, they “walk from window to closed window, watching boughs strain against the sky.” In this portion of the affromented run-on sentence, alliteration, rhythm, and the repetition of words all contribute to the impression of movement. The various “w” sounds at the beginnings of words and the repetition of the word “window” create a sensation of continuously flowing forward, especially when read aloud; the comma adds a small swirling pause to the rhythm, which is then soon after resumed with the word “watching.” Just as the poem rhythmically moves forward with its long phrases connected with frequent commas, so must life carry on with each additional experience, whether it be misfortunes or joys. The elongated syntax allows all these elements to work together within sentences to highlight the similarities between physical storms and emotional struggle and to stress the inevitability of predicaments in life.

“All of them fought to get that room. It was a privacy issue I guess; well Oliver won,” Mr. Ackroyd told him. “He’s the quietest one, often has times that he prefers being alone. He’s very social otherwise. They all have loads of friends.” He decided that Neil could go up there another time. Oliver would take him.

How are we supposed to go in deeper? It’s not like we have a submarine!” “But we do!” Willow exclaimed suddenly. “Huh?” Me and Scarlett asked at the same time. “Well, at least my dad does. He works for the Marine Biology Center, and he can take us down in a submarine!” Willow told us excitedly. “Great! Let’s go!” exclaimed, already running down the driveway. Willow and Scarlett hopped on their bikes that were parked in my driveway, and I got mine out of the garage. Then we set off to the Marine Biology Center.

“We don’t have enough evidence yet to hold Gary, but there are still many unanswered questions. I want to check some other details before we release him. We’ll see you later. When you get your answers, would you mind sending me a copy?” Detective Ward Asked.

I couldn't bear the sight of the man anymore. Any second he would die, and there would be thousands of witnesses. I leave my wife confused as I state I’ll be back. I’m wasn’t so sure though. As I reached the man, his mask was still off.

The downpour recounts an idiosyncratic phenomenon from his childhood that lingered a cherished occurrence on the writer’s mind; watching as the rain drenched earth and everything on it, then becoming shadowed by the vehement thunder to follow, impacted the writer tremendously as the result/damage of the aforementioned coerced an aesthetic appreciation towards this phenomenon. This heavy downpour embarked the unforgettable memories of playing outside in the heavy rain as he reminisced on the vast imagery of nature’s elements along with the striking sounds that followed. In this extract, the writer’s application of stylistic devices and emotive languages such as: his amplification of “The Downpour” in his description, energizing personifications,