a hurricane - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing

The wind was a zealot, a follower of destruction’s code. In hellacious mood it blew, it slew, it cut in blindest rage. Such was the insanity of that storm, that hurricane. There ne’er was a scream so wild. There ne’er was a torrent so thick. There ne’er was a cloud bank so oily-dense as that skyward barricade. Though ere long we assumed it’d pass, such violence is ne’er born to last long, it was a rent to soul and heart, a wrench of trauma’s hand.

In that storm barely a house could stand tall. So bold was the gale, so fierce was the pelting rain, that even the smallest rotten beam could be its undoing. Beneath every door, from the window frames, came odourless fingers to goosebump the skin. Within its trembling walls, we prayed that upon its passing what was left would be enough to rebuild and renew.

The rage of tempest skies bore down, smashing windows into blizzards of slicing confetti. Trees of aeons tumbled as the devil’s dominoes. Cars moved as if the tarmac were ice, any way but forward. Neither man nor beast could stand in the path of the storm, yet hunker down and pray that it was evil’s last. Their prayers became married to the music of that onward scream, in this ever spun pollution that is the darkest of dreams. Not a thing remained whole, unwarped nor pristine. For this is the way of storms, is it not?