It always scared me as a kid, thunder did. Sometimes the storms would be bad enough to rattle the house a bit. It was funny, though. I was never scared of the lightning.
Now, all of those fears are coming back to me, though I’m grown and far from home. The thunder here isn’t just loud; it’s violent. Sometimes it topples buildings. Other times it just shatters windows, all by the sheer force of the sound. Matter here isn’t as dense as it is on Earth, so the thunder has easy prey.
And the other thing: there is no lightning. Only thunder. But everyone fears it more than anyone ever feared lightning because here, thunder can kill.
The rain pelts against my window and I wonder how long the glass will be there to protect me. They say this is the worst storm there’s been in years, from before I even came here.
Another rumble shakes the ground like an earthquake. I hold onto this journal like it will somehow keep me grounded. With every roar of thunder, I don’t know if it will be the last thing I’ll ever hear.
But maybe the storm will calm. I may yet survive.