Maia.

Thursday night.

Howling wind rattle the windows, threatening to shatter the feeble glass. Twigs scratch the house, like long claws. Tall dark shadows flicker on the walls, jumping around the room. The lights flicker dramatically, taking one last breath of light, before we are plunged into darkness. I stumble over to the table, fumbling for the torch. I slide the switch, and a tunnel of light bursts out of the torch, illuminating the wall opposite me. A deafening bang comes from outside, as another tree surrenders to the weather. Branches continue to sway violently, their leave rustling. Silent panic wraps around the house, as I search for candles and matches. Soon, the soft candlelight is allowing us to wander around the rooms, checking everyone is alright. We settle into our cosy beds, layering the blankets thickly. I wrap the blankets around me, like a caterpillar in a cocoon. I close my eyes, as the weather continues to cause a trail of destruction around New Zealand.