Hail Storm
By Vinay Saunders, age 15, from Carnforth, Lancashire

Late January.
Standing outside the block.
The door is locked
again.
It's cold; I want to get inside
where it's warm.
The shadow passed over;
the sky went dark;
a cloth drawn over the sun.
As we wondered at this weather
the hail came,
hard.
Coming straight at us
whipped up by the wind
like pellets from a machine gun.
Stinging the back of my neck.
Then it's everywhere;
in seconds the floor is a blanket of white.
My arm is up shielding my eyes
from small hard lumps.
Up to main school I stride from form,
here it's safe, dry and warm.
"Close the door. Quick!"
A teacher calling to us.
It closed and with it
the sound of the storm
ceased.

In Weekender