Backyard, trampoline, large heavy raindrops drip down my face, I spit them off to breathe. The trampoline heavy, soaked, and laboursome. Every jump, the stretched material disburses huge amounts of tiny droplets. Mum appears. “Get off before you get struck by lightning!” “No!” I laugh at her worried face. Bouncing higher and higher, hyena laughter. She is a blur standing in the thick rain. “Get down, get down, get down!” I jump higher. Then, with one foul swoop, the whole sky turns white, the crack so loud it splits the air. Time stopped. Mid-air, mid-flight, my feet weren’t touching anything.
Bec Renton is a writer and poet living in Naarm. Bec has a black cat named Bobby and enjoys the sound of the rain.