It was a summer day just like any other. Still Unbob was worried. Something just didn't seem right. There wasn't a hint of a breeze, and it hadn't rained in weeks. Unbob scanned the sky -- a hot blue
glare. Still not a cloud in sight. He sighed as he looked at the shriveled plants in his little garden plot. He drew a bucket of water from the well and poured a bit carefully over each one. Satisfied that he had done all he could for them, he drew another bucket and refilled the pan for his chickens.
Unbob wiped the sweat from his eyes. He tipped up the bucket and drained it to the last drop. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He couldn't stop himself from worrying as he stood there. It was too
quiet. Not a blade of prairie grass moved. Not a leaf on a tree. Finally Unbob shook himself from his thoughts and headed indoors for a little rest. It was this durn heat. It always made him sleepy.
Unbob didn't see the sky turn dark. He didn't hear the first drops pattering on his roof. A clap of thunder woke him. As he ran to the door, the wind started to blow like fury, and all of a sudden the
storm was upon him. He peered through the driving rain to see if the henhouse door was fastened. It was, and he hoped all the chickens were inside. With some difficulty he closed his door and went to sit by the window. He watched the lightning as it played across the mountains in the distance.
Unbob hoped the lightning wouldn't come any closer. He didn't like lightning. It was much too bright and loud. It made him want to hide under his bed. Just as he was having serious thoughts about
doing just that, the lightning stopped. So did the wind and the rain. Curious, Unbob went to the door and peeked out. It was ominously quiet, and the sky was a sickly shade of green. Unbob didn't know
what to make of it.
And then he heard it coming. Like a galloping herd, the hail thundered across the ground. Unbob slammed his door and backed into the room. He dropped onto his bed, hands over his ears, to
block out the incredible din. He shut his eyes and prayed.
When the noise let up, Unbob crept back to the door and opened it a crack. The hail had subsided into a gentle rainfall, and Unbob couldn't believe his eyes. The ground was white like snow. He
stepped outside into the yard, his boots slipping on the piles of ice. He didn't see any hens about, so he figured they were still safe inside. He didn't dare look at his garden. He didn't feel much like it anyway. What he felt like was playing.
The cool breeze refreshed him as he made his way toward town. Maybe Mr. Creel had some flavored syrup. Cherry was his favorite. It ought to taste good over ice. There would be time to worry about
replanting his garden later. Right now it just felt good to be alive.
~~
The End
5/05
