This Is a Creative Writing Piece

The young boy awoke, and sat up in his small bed of straw. Was it really going to happen today like that old man said? He stood up and hobbled to the doorway of his family's clay house, and looked up. He's probably right, thought the boy. The sky had been dark for almost a week now. It started off timid, just a white coat over the earth. But it was slowly growing darker; and today, it was almost pitch black. He could barely tell it was mid morning. The winds were turbulent. Dust flew all about him. He went to his small garden to see how they were, and felt their leaves. …