Go outside

A thunderstorm might mean rain. Of course, it can also mean getting struck by lightning, but at this point, you're willing to take the chance. You shove open the sliding glass door, the protesting squeak reminding you yet again that it needs to be oiled. Maybe in the morning.

Stepping out onto the back patio, you tilt your head back, looking eagerly for dark, swollen clouds heavy with rain, but the night sky is clear, the stars twinkling brightly overhead, a ribbon of diamonds in the black velvet of the night. At least the view is nice, out in the middle of nowhere, far from the light pollution of the city.

The purple light flashes again, but it's not coming from the sky. It seems to be coming from the edge of the preserve. Kids playing with fireworks, or maybe a secret rave?