A few weeks ago, my Primary School teacher sent me a picture of something I had written that was included in a school magazine when I was in Std 2. That's Grade 4, for you young 'uns. 

It was a description of a Summer Storm. 

I was taken aback by her message. But she also made my day. 

She reminded me, that in spite of all the things I subsequently became, low-key, I always wanted to be a writer.

To celebrate my writing The End on Novel no. 2, I've taken a stab at that descriptive piece, first written when I was 9 or 10 years old. 

To see how far my writing skills have come?

I suspect my mum, Allah have mercy on her, helped me write the Std 2 piece. I wonder what she'd make of the new one. 

There is amoment.

Of perfect stillness that comes.
Just as.
Just when.
The first drop of rain hits the ground.
And the earth, elated by this display of love from the heavens unleashes a scentso sweet, humans have given it a poetic name. 

Petrichor.

No matterhow grumpy the sky had been until that moment, when that first drop kisses the earththat had been quivering in anticipation, turned, and tossed by buffeting winds,everyone celebrates. But the celebration is short lived, as the wind gains momentum,lashing houses and cars with a cascade of leaves torn from hapless trees, thatit then proceeds to uproot. Rain starts to fall hard enough to hurt. Lighteningscars the sky in jagged streaks. Thunder, the glorification of Ra’d, roars likeanger.

Waterrises. Defying doors shut tight, seeping into houses. Dripping from eaves andfinding holes in roofs that no one had known existed.  

Silence.
Spent, the wind dies down.  
Ra’d stops glorifying.

Birdsemerge, bedraggled, shaking out their sodden feathers, taking in the carnagethat visited their homes with dismay. People arm themselves with mops, broomsand buckets and tackle the waters, head-on.

‘What astorm!’ she breathes

She takesin a deep lungful of rain-washed air. And in that moment, she is thankful, sovery thankful for life.  

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In other cheerful news, my novel, Home Scar, made Sunday Times Literary Awards Longlist. 

Whether I make the shortlist or not is irrelevant, I suppose. The honour of being named in company so accomplished is something I will savour.

Next goal: Learn to promote my writing. I'll need that if Book 2 wants to succeed ;)

Tips, pointers, how-to's, welcome :)