In the calm town of Eastbourne, the sea churned and tossed in its dreams. The pier was alight with light, screams of laughter heard through the country. The sky had other ideas. Dark clouds dressed in thunder tumbled through the sky, the sky darkening, the sun’s power mere against the darkness. All was dark, thunder the only sound to be heard through the night. The rain fell from the sky, trying everything to escape its captors. Lightning flashed, the forks of energy stabbing into the ground. Again and again, the repetitive beating of the ground continuing. Panic, the screams that once were of laughter now of the eerie coldness of fear. The sea, tortured by the stabbing of the tempestuous lightning, crashed and roared in the night, slamming into the rocks and pier. The wind rushes around the people, its whispering sending shivers down their spines. A final bolt of lightning, as time seemed to freeze. It slammed into the pier, and it was all over.
An orange flicker could be seen on the pier, a flicker that grew and grew until the entire pier was its playground. The flames danced on the building, the Eastbourne pier was on fire.