Lightning Strikes
Photo by Jonas Kaiser on Unsplash
The following is from a sample chapter I wrote for a kid’s book/Netflix show. It’s also the first time I have written in first-person.
I have a pilot episode half written and a fully completed pitch document but as usual, have done bugger all with it.
This is typical of me. Another great idea that I don’t have the discipline to finish before I move onto some shiny new thing.
The first strike hits the ground about a kilometre from the valley where we stand.
I close my eyes and can still see the brilliant, jagged blue and white flash behind my eyelids.
Several seconds pass then a single, impossibly loud crack of thunder arrives, so sudden and violent that I feel it deep in my chest.
Dillon’s eyes are wide. “That was close.”
A mist of water from light, steamy rain, dots her face.
She tugs on the sleeve of my rain jacket and nods towards Mr Maddox. He is doing his best to ignore the storm and shows no sign of turning back to base-camp. The kids around him are either visibly nervous or pretending not to be worried.
He catches me watching him.
“Did the nasty lightning scare you, Harmon?”
I say nothing. There is no point. Standing up to him will just make it worse.
As usual, Dillon shows no such restraint. “You’d have to be an idiot not to be scared of lightning.”
Maddox opens his mouth to reply when a second, third and fourth bolt hit in quick succession, each strike closer to us than the last. It’s as if they are marching towards our location. The air crackles and the ground shakes with the impact, sparks fly from multiple strike-points.
There’s a flash of orange as a fire breaks out in the underbrush.
The thunder is so loud that I have to shout at Dillon, even though she’s right next to me. “How far are the caves?”
She wrinkles up her face, obviously struggling to hear. “What?”
I mime a cave-like shape and yell at her. “The caves, how far?”
She nods and points to a rocky outcrop just visible through the trees. It’s impossible to calculate the distance. It could be a hundred metres or a couple of kilometres.
A large bolt slams into a tree on the other side of us. Its trunk cracks and one half of the tree crashes to the ground, the other half remains splintered and broken like a freshly split log.
It’s so close it makes me jump.
I glance at Maddox, hoping for some sort of leadership. He stares at the shattered, smoking tree not moving. I can’t tell if he’s confused, terrified or angry. The kids around him huddle together, clearly scared witless.
I look around for Ryan. He’s behind me. His mouth is pulled tight, his expression grim.
“We gotta get out of here,” he grunts.
Dillon is already moving.
I break into a run and yell to the rest of the class. “Follow us.”
I don’t look back to see if anyone’s moved. I just concentrate on Dillon. She’s about ten metres in front of me, running a ragged line over the uneven terrain. Wet fern fronds slap against the bare legs beneath her shorts as she ignores the track and cuts through the bush, taking the most direct route to the caves.
I hear the snapping crack of more lightning strikes nearby. I don’t know where it’s hitting but it’s all around us.
My eyes are fixed on Dillon. I try to step where she does but she’s faster and fitter than me and I’m losing sight of her.
Thunder rumbles behind like an oncoming train, the sound sends a shiver down my spine. Even though I know it’s only noise, I’m convinced that any moment it’ll catch me and drive me into the dirt.
Tree branches snatch at my face and the misty rain mixes with flashes of lightning to creating a disorienting strobe-like effect.
The bolts are almost continuous now, like the sky is raining fire.
The bolts are almost continuous now, like the sky is raining fire.
A thin, white fork sears the ground to my left, blasting a small crater from the earth and throwing a curtain of dirt into my side. I lunge to the right, veering away from the point of impact. It’s not logical; the strikes are terrifyingly random but I do it anyway.
Directly in front of me another bolt smashes into a tall pine tree. It hits an outlying branch roughly the size of my calf and shears it from the trunk.
I watch in horror as the splintered limb hurtles toward me. I throw myself to the ground and roll sideways. The branch crashes to the ground right where I’d been, sap and pine needles spitting through the air.
I’m up immediately and stumble into a jog but I’m not watching where I’m going and my foot hits a tree root. My ankle snaps violently to the right.
There’s a flash of pain, I stumble but don’t fall.
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