She didn’t know it but being followed around by a private detective had changed her. So when at 9 years old she was awoken by a thunderstorm in the night, her first thought was not, “It’s raining.” Instead her instinct was to assume that the light flashing through her bedroom was from a man trying to kidnap her.
Her fears were confirmed by a screeching, squeaky sound. The man had obviously grabbed little Chianugo from next door. The toddler was crying in his arms while he searched the bedroom for Bola so he could kidnap her too.
Never mind her distorted reality. Given what she was perceiving, Bola now made a smart decision. She must get out of her room without being detected. This meant she would have to stay below the windows. It was not to be an easy feat as the windows came close to floor level.
The bed was on the opposite end of the air-conditioned room from the closed door, with many closed windows in between. She steeled her resolve then slid her body off the bed and onto the ground. Slithering along the ground to the door seemed to take forever. When she got there, she now had the problem of opening it and getting out without being spotted by the still searching flashlight.
Keeping her body stuck to the ground, she reached her hand up as far as she could and managed to grab the door handle. First another moment of resolve. Then she opened the door, ran down the corridor and into her father’s bedroom as fast as she could. This last step created a lot of noise and startled her sleeping dad.
“What is it?!” he yelled as he sat up suddenly in bed.
Bola tried her hardest to reply but the strangest thing happened. Nothing came out of her mouth. She wanted to explain that she was in danger. There was a kidnapper outside. But all she could generate was an unfamiliar guttural sound.
Her father looked at her for one quizzical moment. Then he ordered her to get into the other side of his big bed.
The next morning as the two of them sat at breakfast, Bola found out there had been a thunderstorm. What she thought was a flashlight searching her room had actually been lightning. Of course. And the crying baby? A tree on the property by the Boys’ Quarters had been struck by lightning. The top half came down slowly, making the fresh wood squeak and screech as the pieces rubbed against each other.
And Bola? She grew up, realised where her unconventional reaction to a thunderstorm had come from, and wrote about it in a 30 day blog challenge.
RELEVANT REALITYNIBS LINKS: Princess Lab Rat, I Presume?
WEGO PROMPT FOR THIS POST: Write about a memory you have but describe it using the third person. Use as many sensory images (sights, sounds, textures, etc) as you can. Don’t use “I” or “me” unless you include dialogue.