They predict a storm this weekend. The forecast calls for precipitation, freezing rain, sleet, and snow with projected accumulations of 2 to 4 inches. They won’t rule out hail, tornados, thundersnow, flooding, high winds, and streets covered with ice. I am waiting for locusts, snowmageddon, and the four horsemen.
I drive home, racing past packed grocery store parking lots without stopping. At my house, a full freezer, a stocked pantry, and the aroma of a simmering crockpot greet me. I have plans, and the impending assault helps set the mood. Fog obscures the view from my window, and a misty drizzle falls.
I have scheduled a long writing session, and the inclement conditions suit me. My characters are on the run, fleeing their evil tormentors. Biting wind gusts blow fallen leaves into their path. Tree limbs crack like whips, and lightening scratches angry marks across the midnight sky. Bram Stoker trembles in his…
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