Looking for Shells

Lightning flashed around the house, rain lashed the garden bending back the flowers under the weight of the downpour. I wiped water from my eyes and shone the torch under the trees. The search was hopeless, like looking for a needle in a haystack, but inside the house my daughter was crying her eyes out. She was meant to be studying for a spelling test but her schoolbooks lay untouched so distraught was she at the thought of Gibbles being out in this weather. I had tried to explain that being a tortoise was an outdoor occupation and Gibbles would be fine. But no, Daddy had to go out in the garden to find that damn reptile. ‘Have you found him yet?’ I heard Katie ask through the sobs. ‘Yes I have, but I love it out here in the rain.’ I mumbled sarcastically beneath my breath. My daughter didn’t seem to understand the fact that she was putting the well-being of a tortoise above the safety of her father. The death of her dad from electrocution would have  a far wider impact on her life  in the long term than the loss of a tortoise, that unbeknown to her wasn’t even the original Gibbles anyway.  I jumped as thunder crashed right above me and the garden lit up as if on a movie set. It was then I saw it; the bolt of lighting struck its target with a precision Phil ‘the Power’ Taylor could only dream of. I’ve often wondered since then if Gibbles would have survived had the lightning stuck his shell, but the fact the poor creature was struck squarely on the nose meant Gibbles was well and truly toast.