Wind

He stood perfectly still. The darkened window in front of his face was open wide, the wind outside ripped at the screen, but he felt nothing. The air wasn't the pure clean smell he expected, there was something unpleasant on the roaring breezes. As was often the case, the winds were from the south, roaring down the hill. Tonight, they were traveling at such great speed that they were picking up the aroma of the port several miles away. The tree in his backyard was at least four stories tall. It did not yield much to the wind, but its long branches were caught up in the swirling winds and waved in all directions at once. There was no grace, no gentle sway, this was the chaotic haphazard movements of a slightly flexible branches of great length being pushed almost to their limits and then allowed to violently snap back as the buffeting wind hammered the tree incessantly, albeit haltingly.

In the darkened room, he wondered if the power would last the night, realizing that it could have already gone out and he'd have no indication from where he was. The neighbor's house still had lights, but there had been other times where one street was dark for days while that street only lost power for a few short hours. But at the moment, he was fairly certain they still had power, he was certain that if they didn't, he'd hear loud protests from his wife who was presently using the computer in another room.

But he hadn't heard that, instead only the powerful roar of the wind, pushing against every surface in its race down the hill - houses, fences, decks and garbage cans all created buffers for the wind, but it was the trees themselves that were the greatest source of noise as the wind powered through the evergreens, each needle a tiny dam changing the course of the energy as they stubbornly clung to the branches.

In the distance he could see flashes as transformers blew and he decided he ought to go find a flashlight.