The sky was covered in an ominous and comforting blanket of dull grey storm clouds. Living in Colorado since I was a young boy, I was accustomed to the summer's storms. The familiar and exciting smell of the storm came rolling over the rocky mountains, the cool summers air rushing into my face as I opened the window. My hair was pushed from my face as the storm approached, its howl growing louder. I could see the clouds rushing past the pearly moon, it’s light reflecting in all directions bouncing off of the clouds. The trees on the edge of my property began to sway, and water on the lake began to ripple as the sky rained down its watery cry. Mesmerized by nature's dance, I think to myself that this is what they mean when they say the calm before the storm. Every tree swaying in harmony with the other, every drop of rain accounted for in the still grey water of my pond. I loved storms, the smells, the sounds, sitting by the warm fire knowing that you are safe from everything in the world, because the rain is not hitting your skin. I felt a chill down my spine and decided to light the fire. I turn to the small pellet stove, and work on the fire, letting the cool breeze send a river of chills through my body. The fire grows from an ember to a flare of red and orange branching off and dancing it’s mysterious dance leaving shadow people on the yellowed walls. That was when I heard the sound. A crack unmatchable by anything I have ever heard. Like 100 firecrackers going off all at once, and then, with a sudden gust of power, I fall to the ground and my vision fades.

I awoke to the torrential sting of rain pouring over my face, I coughed, choking on the unexpected rush of water. I blink quickly attempting to restore my now blurred vision and try to figure out what had happened. I go to stand up, as I am met with a jolt of pain rushing up my right arm and down my back. I turn and find that my arm is pinned and mangled beneath a large oak. I scream out in agony realizing the position I am now in. I peer through my torn open roof and watch as the now charcoal skies pour down a fury of rain onto my exposed skin. I turn back to my arm and watch as my scarlet blood drips down into the puddle of clear rain water, creating a vortex of blood and water, rippling with every drop of rain. The wind slams into me, sending shivers down my pruned skin, my body begging for warmth. I feel my lips going blue. I feel my vision fading again. And before I know it. I am gone.

I wake up in a room, my vision comes into focus, and I see powerful white light emanating from everywhere. I suspect some sort of heavenly figures to tell me I have run out of time. Instead I am surprised to see a man in a blue suit and mask walk up to me.

“You gave us quite the scare kid, not many people are as lucky as you.”

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“The tree that pinned you to the ground, it kept you from losing too much blood, you are going to be okay son.”  He leaves the room, and I position myself upright fixing my gaze to the window. The sun's bright rays offered me a warming feeling that I had before taken for granted. I could tell you that despite this experience I still loved storms, but I would be lying. The once familiar and exciting smell of a storm now stings my chest, and the cool summers wind makes my arm ache. One thing is for sure. I will never take a clear sky for granted again.