By Perry McDaid
A pinkish-orange cloud, which looked like a hippopotamus with a Turkish yashmak, strutted across his field of vision, following in the wake of the previous night’s storm.
Although he had ignored her howls—meteorologists had named her Eva, as primitive man had once created and named gods for the natural forces he feared—the fanciful imagery reminded him of the task ahead: the checking for roof damage and possible relocation of wheelie bins.
His heart sank at the thought of chasing after displaced items like lost sheep…yet whimsy argued that this was somehow appropriate in the run up to Christmas.
As a keen weather observer I found the “pinkish-orange cloud” is instantly recognisable and well described.
And you know, I still have a religious-tending preference for female cyclones–the original giants of creation-destruction were always female. Male cyclones just evoke images of tantrum-throwing tyrants – mayhem stripped of mystery.
Very good Perry. The first sentence is well described and hooked me immediately.