Some children are afraid of storms but not Lydia. She welcomes the wind and the rain. The weight of thunder in the air comforts her.
Lightning flashes, illuminating her room for a split second. Lydia kicks the sheets from her legs, now damp with sweat, and turns over onto her side so she could see out of the window. The Spanish moss swings on a tree branch outside. Gray and matted, Lydia once believed it was the hair of a monster. When she was younger, she could see them every time she closed her eyes. Fat and furry they lumbered through the neighborhood on feet the size of cars snagging their fur on the trees.
She used to be afraid in her room alone at night. Her mother plugged in nightlight in by her closet door to chase away the darkness. Lydia would pull the blanket up over her head to protect her from the monsters. She once believed that the thin fabric was enough to protect her.
Now that Lydia is 12 years old she knows that none of her fears were real. She laughs when she thinks of all of the things that scared her when she was younger.
The rain comes down harder. It sounds like pebbles falling on the roof. Lightning strikes once and once again. It’s so close now that the thunder vibrates the house.
Lydia sits up in her bed, her eyes fixed on the window. She sees his torso first, a tattered red shirt soaked through with rain. He bends down and looks into her window. His eye the size of a dinner plate. Lydia gets up from her bed and rushes to him. Her smile as wide as her face.
Lydia used to be afraid of monsters before she knew they were her friends. Once she learned to chase her fears a whole new world of adventure opened up to her.