Pat. Pat. Pat. The rain was falling outside the window sill. Darkness devoured what was left of the light of the sun. A young brunette girl gazed down at her watch. 6:58. Only silence was present, other than the sounds of the rain dropping on the glass window and the ocassional thunder. She sat in the corner of the room, wrapped in her comfy, large, pink blanket. Surrounded by meaningless play things, she gazed off out the window.
Pat. Pat. Pat. The girl sighed. She hated rainy days. It was so depressing, and it made her sinuses stuffed up.
The thunder crashed, startling the young girl. She wrapped herself closely into the blanket, almost like a cocoon. A good five minutes passed, and the girl grew bored. She grabbed her old paddle-ball, and attempted to break her record of 45. After a few minutes, she had failed to go higher than 34, stabbing herself in the face with the little rubber ball a few times as well.
Pat. Pat. Pat.
She set down her little wooden play thing, and just stared out the window. The sounds of the rain were quite soothing to the girl. The pitter-patters were calming.
Her calm gaze was interrupted by a crash of thunder and a strike of lightning, almost blinding the poor girl. She sighed. She had remembered what her mother once said to her when she was little. The sounds of thunder was just the sounds of angels bowling from the Heavens. She couldn't quite remember what she said about lightning, if she even said anything about it. She grew bored again, as she grabbed her pencils and paper.
The girl coughed. Would this cold ever cease? At least she was just at the end of it.
As she was drawing, the pitter-patters of the rain slowly ceased. She looked out the window, to see the storm was clearing up. As the depressing phase of rain was over, she smiled, and she signed her drawing with her trademark signature;