"It was a dark and stormy night which will be followed by a bleak and cold morning today. A chill will be coming in from the South East and it does not care how cold and lonely you might be. The weather never cares." "Is Bill alright?" James, the shows producer, asked the near by camera man, "His weather forecast seems a lot more... dramatic then usual." "His wife told him she wants a divorce. He's not taking it well," the camera man replied.
It was a dark and stormy night: not the sort of night to be caught out in a small yacht, sans charts, sans compass, in fact, sans everything needed to make a safe landfall.
It was a dark and stormy night , the kind that seemed ideal for an illegal duel as no one would ever make out the gun shots of our bloodmatch amidst the thunder. Raindrops mixed with cold sweat on my forehead as my adversary and I paced apart though the storm slick grass. On ten I span to by left index finger firmly pulling the trigger, mentally bracing myself for the impact of a ball, the vtaste of blood in my mouth, and the sound of my opponent's laughter. Instead all I heard was swearing from his mouth and mine as we realised that both pistols had misfired. Seems rain and gunpowder do not mix
It was a dark and stormy night, lightning cracked, skies turned bright! The wind howled across the moor, Torrents of rain, fury at my door - Shutters whipped against the pane, An angry voice, called my name!
It was a dark and stormy night, that turned to a stormy day. Why oh why did I ever let that conman convince me into this year long lease on a condo on Jupiter? He forgot to mention that a year is 12 years back on Earth.
It was a dark and stormy night. She never painted anything else. Canvas after canvas of gloomy grey skies and relentless rain. Chris worried about her.
It was a darky and stormy night. Perfect. I revel in it. The rain and hail pelts my naked body like a massage. The wind howls, I howl back. I scream at the storm. "Is this it? Is this the limit of your fury? It's nothing! You're nothing!" Lightning illuminates the clouds, and thunder shakes the earth. I raise my fist at the sky. "What is that, a threat? Don't make me laugh. Be as loud as you like, I'm not listening!" A lightning bolt descends in response, striking my raised fist and throwing me aside. Slowly, I stand back up, steaming. More lightning flashes in the clouds, and the storm rumbles. It's waiting for a response. I'd better apologize. I should have known better. When your Mother Nature's child, you're never old enough to defy your mother.
It was a dark and stormy night. Kris looked up from the notebook she was so furiously scribbling on, and sighed. The window was left open, she realized and at this sudden realization, sprung up from the chair she sat on and ran over to the window, breathing in the heavenly scent of rain and wet grass. Heavenly as it was, the scent was also a reminder of her silliness at having forgotten to latch the window close that night. In her defense, though, she couldn't possibly have known that it would rain, she wasn't, after all, a seer. It would be cool to be one, though, she'd always thought. She shook the thought of seers from her head and regarded the matter at hand— a puddle of water and a bit of mud that had gathered below the windowsill— with distaste, shaking her head. It would be sometime before she got back to the bliss of her journal and pen, she thought as she shut the window and pulled the curtains close.
It was a dark and stormy night-- I ripped the page out of the notebook, crumpled it in my fist, and threw it at the wall. It fell amidst the corpses of its brethren. No dragons slain. No grandeur. Just innocent pieces of paper, murdered by my pen. Their lives had so much potential. The crime-scene of a depressed, scared, and lost kid, who wished to be a writer.
It was a dark and stormy night. I stood in a dark alley, surrounded by thick hedges. I heard a sound that resembled footsteps behind me. I swung around but couldn't spot anything. I started walking again, faster this time. I could feel my breathing drop and pick feverishly, my heart thump furiously, it felt like my chest would burst and it would come out. I suddenly felt thirsty but there was no place nearby from where I could get water and hide myself for a while, letting myself loose to get hold of my senses again. The eerie sound that was following me hadn't stopped. I stopped then, and with all the courage that I could muster, thought about confronting whatever or whoever it was that had been following me. Gathering my thoughts and inhaling deeply, I very slowly turned aound, to my great surprise though, only to come face to face with a tiny creature that looked only too much like a Rabbit. Only, that couldn't be the case, after all, a rabbit couldn't possibly have sent me in such a frenzy. I told myself that even when I was settling into bed that night, however, I wasn't silly enough to believe my lousy self and deep down, was aware of the unfortunate truth. *Sorry if only one attempt is allowed.
It was a dark and stormy night, the Atlantic was lit only by brief bursts of lightning, the thunder an almost continuous low roar that seemed to come from all around. He'd need to go outside to batten down the hatches, so Roger pulled on his storm gear, his mouth twisting in a bitter grin at the memory of the first time he'd done so. Storm gear had been different in those days, very different. He suddenly remembered the feeling of cold water seeping down his collar, running down his back. Water. Water from the sky. The children didn't believe him, but it hadn't rained in thirty-seven years, why should they? Checking the seals on his suit once more, he pulled the dust mask into place and stepped out into the haboob that was sweeping down from the central mountains over the great Eastern Atlantic desert. It's not perfect, but I'm just going to leave it where it is.
It was a dark and stormy night. An understatement. It's darker than the insides of a troll's arse, I couldn't see a thing. Not without the light from my helm. I had to keep dodging from vegetative trunks, metallic bars, half of what used to be a dome, pretty everything that couldn't hold on to the ground. If it wasn't for my gravity boots, I'd have flown away into oblivion along with them. This is why I hate summoners.