s08_qp_2.pdf. .
Section A: Narrative/Descriptive/Imaginative
Writing
Q4. Write a descriptive piece called The Storm. In your
writing you should try to bring out an increasing sense of
the power and force of extreme weather.
The Storm
The sun hovered briefly on the horizon, then dipped below. At
once, the clouds rolled infirst red, then mauve, silver, green and
black as if all the colours in the world were being sucked into a
vast melting pot. A single frigate bird soared over the mangroves,
its own colours lost in the chaos behind it. The air was close. Rain
hung waiting. There was going to be a storm.
The bank of clouds gathers their strength in the intent to launch
a full forced attack on the outmatched island. Like an armada
making ready for an attack of utter fury. Clouds begin to morph
and what once was white, innocent clouds, now become a raven
black wolf with snarling silver fangs; the silver, the streaks of hail
clouds. Though even in this form there is no anger, it is still only
a concept, yet to take shape.
This short time of tranquillity is both inviting and to be greatly
feared, though beautiful overall; as the light shines through
cracks in the sky, in a last attempt to capture the beauty of the
world, before the storm takes over. It is as if time, momentarily,
stands still; as though it is debating whether to allow the
devastating storm to proceed.My heart pounding as I felt it would
cut open my throat as blazing anxiety draped over me.
The clouds, now armed with their full power, threaten to, at any
moment, roll ashore like the advancing attack of a well-trained
cavalry force. As though it were a fire bursting into life, the clouds
are suddenly filled with a very real, very intense anger. The idea
of evil intention has grown to an intense longing to cause
harm. The clouds have taken on the same nature of a serial killer;
for he too breaks loose of the shackles may die a furious trauma.
..the storm broke. Suddenly, a fork of lightning, brilliant and
buzzing with a magnificent electricity, flashed majestically
through the groaning mountain of clouds. Whistling and shrieking,
the wind raged through the night, like an angered bear.The rain
fell like an ocean thrown from the sky. It crashed into the town,
splattered off the sidewalks, and formed instant rivers that raced
along the gutters and overwhelmed the drainsthis irrepressible
avalanche of water that threatened to drown the world. The
pattering of the rain, a gushing sound, suddenly turns into
drumbeats on the roof top. The sky now slowly had turned into
sable .
Agonized by the the savour of the events,I ran crouched like a cat
alighted by a fierce dog under the shade of a motherly banyan
tree.I could see cars halted on the road the drivers crack up
asking themselves Will I be able to survive?.Engulfed by the
prison of life dark to the very core this hurricane seemed like a
black death . It had been the fiercest storm that had ever hit
the land.
Thunder kept roaring across the sky, seeming to crack the world
in half and reveal the fury of the gods. It reverberated around the
green landscape, eerily echoing as I saw a little girl desperately
searched for shelter.
She found none.
The immense, powerful elements, in their giant-like form seems
to make one feel small on the canvas of nature; incapable of
withstanding the hurricane of life. The storm represents more
than the hand that will lay waste to the island, it also represents
the hurricanes that rage around us daily. Like the survivor of the
island storm, we too, can withstand our storms; prevailing and
rising to new heights, which hold their own satisfying beauty. The
rainbow after a storm.
