It was a typical Monday assembly. We sat cross-legged on the hall floor, listening to the principal drone on about lost property. Outside, the sky had turned a strange greenish grey, heavy and still. I felt restless, wishing the announcements would end. A few kids glanced nervously at the windows, where the large glass panes showed the trees bending slowly in the wind. I wondered if we would have indoor play again, but that thought was swept away by a sudden, deafening crack of thunder. The whole hall shook. Everyone jumped.

The lights flickered twice, then went out. A girl behind me gasped. Rain began hammering the roof like a thousand tiny drummers. The principal shouted over the noise, telling us to stay calm and remain seated. But the wind howled around the building, rattling the doors. I felt my heart thudding against my ribs. A bright flash of lightning lit the hall for a split second, revealing everyone's wide eyes. It was scary but also thrilling. The storm was so close, so powerful. We were all trapped together in that wild moment, sharing something extraordinary.

A boy near the front started crying. A teacher rushed over to comfort him. Meanwhile, the storm roared on with incredible crashes and bangs. Some kids giggled nervously. I remember looking at my best friend beside me; she was gripping my arm tightly. We didn't speak, but we knew exactly what the other was thinking. This would be something we talked about for weeks. The storm seemed to last forever, yet it was probably only about fifteen minutes. Then, as suddenly as it began, the rain softened. The lights buzzed back on.

A bright flash of lightning lit the hall for a split second, revealing everyone's wide eyes.

The principal announced that the storm had passed and we could return to class. We walked out into a clean, fresh world. The schoolyard was covered in leaves and puddles. The air smelled different — electric and wet. I felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. For a few minutes, the storm had stripped away the ordinary. We had all been equal in our fear and wonder. Reflecting now, I realise that storms, like tough moments, remind us how small we are and how strong we can be together. That day, the assembly hall seemed less like a boring place and more like a shelter.