by Fred Bekker
The storm’s earliest memory was being born. Now this isn’t quite normal for you and I, but this was a storm. His mum was the ocean and his dad was the sun. The day was hot. so so hot. He had just risen and was slowly floating up and there he was. A cloud. A big white fluffy cloud. Just a cloud in the sky. After a while he grew, he grew, he grew, until the wind stole him away to some land.
He wondered where his mother was. He longed to be with her again. So cold, so. so cold. Oh what was happening? He was growing smaller. He was falling as rain! Falling, falling. He hit the ground with a CRASH and trickled into stream. He soon became a river. Oh how he missed his mum. He flowed down, down, down. But there, there she was. His mum was there and together they were one.