The Monsoon must have gotten wind of my disparaging remark of two days past—because last night it came looking for me.
In two separate surprise assaults it threw volley after volley of blasting rain and multiple barrages of rig-rocking turbulence—it even probed for me with bolts of lightning, the closest booming attack luckily diverted by a metal fence post just a few dozen feet away.
Even surviving these actions, every pinpoint hole and weak seal was revealed, the worst being that around the pull-out on the side that bore the brunt of the attack. Here the perimeter was breached leading to wet hand-to-hand action inside the walls. And my refrigerator went down and still hasn’t been fully revived.
These attacks were followed by two feints later in the night. Lighting, thunder and wind would maneuver, then back away. But it was enough to keep me lying awake in my bunk, twitching at every flash.
Even more remarkable, the thunder in the last feint, reaching again and again to every corner of the sky, sounded suspiciously like deep, derisive laughter.
Probably just my imagination, eh?
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