that suddenly arose and just as quickly passed through the room almost didn't catch his attention. It was fall or close enough, and nights got chilly, especially in old houses. So, he laid his head on the pillow, pulled the blanket up over his shoulders and got comfy.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off before he knew it.
Nine
The storm raged for most of the afternoon, with the ferocity of a rabid animal, not unusual for fall weather in Western Maryland. Wind whipped around; rain pelted the walls and roof. The old house creaked and cracked, but neither a gust of wind nor a drop of rain penetrated it. Sheets of rain slapped against the house. Gurgling water gushed down the spouts as rain cascaded off the roof. The first strike of lightning caused a clap of thunder he felt in his bones.
A close one.
Never one to be afraid of a good storm, Ian rather enjoyed the sound of the rain, the flashing brightness of the lightning, the rolling grumble of the thunder. It not only created a soothing symphony for him to easily fall asleep, it amped up his creativity.
And Ian again wondered, as he sometimes found himself doing, why he felt like the theme song for his life would be the song “Ave Satani” from The Omen . If he closed his eyes and concentrated really hard, he bet he’d hear those chorales echoing.
It had been raining since he'd gotten out of bed, the storm having started during the wee hours of the morning. Ian had been really tempted to stay in bed, pull the blankets up over his head, and just enjoy the storm.
Nothing better than books on a rainy day. Ian liked his library. The old built-ins were salvaged for the most part—a combination of revitalizing the ones original to the house and replacing the ones that couldn’t be saved with pieces salvaged from other old homes. Since it was bigger than his former library, he had plenty of room to add books. Very comforting to be surrounded by wood and books. No wonder people sought out older homes.
When he finally got the fireplace installed, a one hundred-fifty year old find his friend discovered stored in the basement of its original owner, it would heat the room easily; at five feet wide and over eight feet tall, it would dominate the opposite the windows. Flames would be reflected in the new glass and light would fill the room. And the fact it was practically the twin of the living room fireplace was an added bonus.
Rain splattered outside, helping to create a relaxing ambiance in which Ian enjoyed his book—a large tome about the final resting spots of celebrities—and entertained thoughts of a slice of the vegan German chocolate cake he'd made the day before. Ian reminded himself he’d already eaten a pretty big piece for a late breakfast, not to mention the two yesterday, and the cake wouldn’t last more than another day if he kept eating it. Outside, a flash of lightning was soon followed by the rolling grumble of thunder. Ian enjoyed a good storm, as long as the electricity didn’t go out. His enjoyment lasted only as long as there was power, and he hadn’t had the chance to get a generator yet. He put the thought out to the universe to keep the electricity flowing.
As he turned the page, he almost had himself convinced he didn’t want another piece of cake. Almost, but not quite. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before the desire would overcome him and he’d find himself in the kitchen, chewing on the pecans and coconut in the icing. German chocolate icing, the closest to manna from heaven he’d ever get. In his mind, he already tasted the cake.
Unless there was pecan pie. Chilly, rainy days practically cried out for a big slice of pecan pie. He would have bowed his head and lamented his lack of pie were it not for the call of the cake.
When he felt the hand on his shoulder, Ian didn’t know whether
Closing his eyes, he drifted off before he knew it.
Nine
The storm raged for most of the afternoon, with the ferocity of a rabid animal, not unusual for fall weather in Western Maryland. Wind whipped around; rain pelted the walls and roof. The old house creaked and cracked, but neither a gust of wind nor a drop of rain penetrated it. Sheets of rain slapped against the house. Gurgling water gushed down the spouts as rain cascaded off the roof. The first strike of lightning caused a clap of thunder he felt in his bones.
A close one.
Never one to be afraid of a good storm, Ian rather enjoyed the sound of the rain, the flashing brightness of the lightning, the rolling grumble of the thunder. It not only created a soothing symphony for him to easily fall asleep, it amped up his creativity.
And Ian again wondered, as he sometimes found himself doing, why he felt like the theme song for his life would be the song “Ave Satani” from The Omen . If he closed his eyes and concentrated really hard, he bet he’d hear those chorales echoing.
It had been raining since he'd gotten out of bed, the storm having started during the wee hours of the morning. Ian had been really tempted to stay in bed, pull the blankets up over his head, and just enjoy the storm.
Nothing better than books on a rainy day. Ian liked his library. The old built-ins were salvaged for the most part—a combination of revitalizing the ones original to the house and replacing the ones that couldn’t be saved with pieces salvaged from other old homes. Since it was bigger than his former library, he had plenty of room to add books. Very comforting to be surrounded by wood and books. No wonder people sought out older homes.
When he finally got the fireplace installed, a one hundred-fifty year old find his friend discovered stored in the basement of its original owner, it would heat the room easily; at five feet wide and over eight feet tall, it would dominate the opposite the windows. Flames would be reflected in the new glass and light would fill the room. And the fact it was practically the twin of the living room fireplace was an added bonus.
Rain splattered outside, helping to create a relaxing ambiance in which Ian enjoyed his book—a large tome about the final resting spots of celebrities—and entertained thoughts of a slice of the vegan German chocolate cake he'd made the day before. Ian reminded himself he’d already eaten a pretty big piece for a late breakfast, not to mention the two yesterday, and the cake wouldn’t last more than another day if he kept eating it. Outside, a flash of lightning was soon followed by the rolling grumble of thunder. Ian enjoyed a good storm, as long as the electricity didn’t go out. His enjoyment lasted only as long as there was power, and he hadn’t had the chance to get a generator yet. He put the thought out to the universe to keep the electricity flowing.
As he turned the page, he almost had himself convinced he didn’t want another piece of cake. Almost, but not quite. He knew it was only a matter of minutes before the desire would overcome him and he’d find himself in the kitchen, chewing on the pecans and coconut in the icing. German chocolate icing, the closest to manna from heaven he’d ever get. In his mind, he already tasted the cake.
Unless there was pecan pie. Chilly, rainy days practically cried out for a big slice of pecan pie. He would have bowed his head and lamented his lack of pie were it not for the call of the cake.
When he felt the hand on his shoulder, Ian didn’t know whether
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