After a night of howling weather, I went out early just to see the massive damage that the storm had caused. I expected trees fallen like dominoes and the sidewalk ripped off the ground, with pieces of brick floating in the air.
I stepped out of my house, seeing the street, unchanged, save for some litter strewn on the floor. The trees stood like giants, with lush leaves for hair. A few cats had retreated to the safety of the rubbish bins, some of which had tipped over.
Striding down the empty streets, the birds’ songs filled my ears, reflecting the exact opposite of what the storm would have been like. A few lone cars rumbled down the road, bleary-eyed drivers trying desperately to stay awake. Several cats, seeing me, shrunk into the shadows when they saw me. One or two people, with bloodshot eyes, staggered forward like zombies. In the eerie light of the early morning, I could almost imagine a werewolf howling at the top of its voice, keeping other wolves at bay while invoking fear into fearful people. The occasional flickering streetlight cast long shadows into every dark corner, making it difficult for me to see anything clearly. Not wanting to be mistaken for a werewolf, on the hunt for its next unfortunate victim, I hurried down the street.
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