The goosebumps raise on flesh and darkness envelops. It’s so cold that I can see my breath before me. As I rub my shoulders hoping to spark some warmth I hear hard and fast plops hit the street before me. The rain pounds against the roof of the bus station stop and my teeth begin to chatter. I can’t see a thing and I become anxious. Far off I hear a crack, a hiss, and a boom. Ethereal, tantamount music to my ears. Before my eyes lightning strikes and the scene is illuminated. I see trees push against the wind with roots deeply set, animals scurry for cover and huddle close, and light falls over all of what makes my world turn. Streets, people, homes, buildings. I see before me things I cannot even mean to imagine, where a writer’s mind could never go. My inspiration lays itself out for me, begging me to pen its stories.