Before the Plane Crash: Post #5

Intro: This is about the kid I wrote about in the first blog and his life before the island. (I created a fictional situatuion)

I walked by the many trees, each was loosing leaves and looked slightly limper then before. It was ovoius that they were unwatered for days. My mom was never much of a gardener but I think the garden looked grayer for another reason. London was usually rainy so the mucky weather was no stranger. The clouds almost were a shield against reality; almost, but not really. But the air was thick with the stench of oil and it poisened peoples lungs. It was espcially bad for childern, me being about six (but almost seven) included. Out in the lusher areas of london where I lived now this would cause a few questions, that was a long time ago. A few war planes flew a mile above my head. Rain started to pour down as the planes disapeared. With the oils smell and rain mixed together it felt like an acid rain even though I knew it was nowhere near that. I stayed outside because my mum would once again worry sick about me leaving next week. Wind was pounding against my ears making them sore. My breath was rattling, the wild gusts that threw me off balance. I placed my self under the shelter of a tree that looked like a bush. It wasn't half bad place to sit. Like a hiding spot, I sat for a bit. But my mind was racing with thoughts of the upcoming. I ran back out and threw off my coat, my arms were raised. I wanted remeber my home, no matter how rainy it is I want to remember it... I felt the bitter cold bite my arms. I closed my eyes. The sound turned off, though the rain continued. The cold was bearible and the wind was acceptible all of a sudden. I just waited. I don't know How long I could hold off the cold.
A bird fluttered by making a singing noise I watched and with out realising also dropping my arms. They sang dispite the weather, they sang a melody that I new none of but still could understand fully. Though the weather may be bad there was still hope. The storm may go on for a while but it would stop... The sun whould shine again. But they sang for hope, foolish it may seem for a bird to sing in such bad weather, hope was the only thing that kept them going through a storm.