Pierre lay down, enjoying the very infrequent sun. He had been having a lovely day meeting old friends, he had a full tummy, he’d drunk quite a lot, and now he was feeling very sleepy.
He started to gently snore as the toll of the full day came upon him. But his first snore came the first gust of wind. It was not too gusty at first, just a gentle whip of the hair and a few leaves spinning across the garden. Pierre snorted and turned on his side believing himself to be comfortably esconsed in his own bed.
Around him the wind started to pick up and the leaves which had fluttered gracefully around started to swirl, and rise higher in the air. The outdoor patio area furniture which had been carefully covered by Marie, gently rocked as the wind hit it.
A loose flap of its cover started to shake and shudder trying to rip itself free.
Pierre snored and turned over again.
Water droplets rose up from the bird bath, gravity forgotten, as it was picked up by the wind and started to fly gracefully over the top of the house.
Pierre did not hear the shouts from Marie. he lay in the corner of the garden fast asleep as tiles from the roof of the house flew off and hit the house on the other side. he slept as the flap of material covering the garden patio furniture finally gave up and flew after the tiles.
Marie sat in the house wringing her hands, alternating between worry, dread, and anger at Pierres ignoring her calls.
Finally the winds died down and all in the garden was calm again. As it did, Pierre stood and stretched, sleepy eyed. He’s slowly meandered up to the house, walked in and asked for his dinner. On the radio the lady was telling everyone that the cyclone was downgraded.
Marie hugged Pierre, grateful that he was ok. She got out his bowl and started to feed him. The crazy old Great Dane.
Short story by Isabella I F Shores
Part of the writing tasks set by Kathy McClellan on Our Arts Magazine https://ourartsmagazine.com/writing-tasks/writing-skills-task-407/2018