The Night Between the Flashes

Ben was getting ready for bed. Mom tucked him in, smiled, and said, “There’s going to be a storm tonight. No problem, right?”

“Of course not,” Ben said.

Of course he was not afraid. He was already seven, proudly seven years old, practically grown up. He snuggled into his pillow and fell asleep pretty quickly.

But something woke him in the middle of the night.

The storm had come.

It was dark all around. Rain rattled against the windows, and the wind was so loud he could hear it even through the closed glass. Something was banging or scraping on the roof, and Ben could not tell what it was.

He felt a little scared, so he pulled the blanket over his head and switched on his flashlight. It felt like camping, like being inside a tent on a warm summer night, and since Ben loved camping, that made him feel better.

But after a while, it got boring. He peeked out from under the blanket and looked toward the window. He wanted to see the storm that sounded so loud, but outside there was only darkness. He could hear the storm, but he could not see it, except for those quick moments when lightning flashed.

And whenever the lightning flashed, Ben could see everything for just a second. He saw dark clouds and wet leaves and tree branches tossing wildly in the wind, as if they were doing some strange, crazy dance. Then the light vanished, and he waited for the next flash.

When it came, Ben saw something strange.

For one brief moment, he saw something green and round. It was definitely not lightning. It moved in a funny sort of way, almost with a cheerful bounce, but then, in an instant, the darkness swallowed it again.

Ben was not sure what he had seen.

Had he really seen something?

Or had he imagined it?

The room was dark and quiet again except for the rain, which now sounded almost like a lullaby. Ben turned over, closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep again.