A stormy night

In seconds, the clouds turned grey.
IMPROVED:
In seconds, the sky lost its colour; pillowy clouds muted the cocktail blues and greens.
The rain was coming down like bullets.
IMPROVED:
A bruised-purple tint washed the scene, welcoming the straight silver bullets.
There was silver lightning in the dark sky.
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Like a network of silver tangled veins, the lightning meandered its way, shattering the suffocating shroud of grey.
The thunder roared back with immense power.
IMPROVED:
A deep visceral shudder - the thunder - roared back; its raw electric power mimicking the visual fracture of the now flickering sky.

The raindrops were hitting the leaves hard.
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Once rustling gleefully, the beech tree leaves were now incessantly hammered by droplets, much heavier than themselves.
Their branches were falling down because of the strong wind.
IMPROVED:
Their branches shuddered and bowed, surrendering to the relenting wind.
The trees were dancing in the wind.
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The trees trembled and swayed, rocking like a drunken man.

A BEAUTIFUL GARDEN

Green algae was floating on the water.
IMPROVED:
Strokes of algae painted the surface of the water in all shades of green.
There were rocks around the water. The water reflected the moving trees.
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Fist-sized rocks etched a graceful path that mirrored distorted elegant figures, swishing and swaying in rhythmic motion.
The water was frothy. It made a sloshing sound.
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The soapy froth accompanied, whisking pebbles in its wake. Little could be heard beyond the unbroken, muffled sloshes.

A robin was chirping.
IMPROVED:
Occasionally a soft melody painted the air: two robins striking an earnest conversation…
The robin was orange and fluttered its wings.
IMPROVED:
… oblivious of how their vibrant flutters and distinctive orange breasts embellished the scene.
The branch they were standing on gave off a woody smell.
IMPROVED:
The branches beyond their delicate feet wafted an earthy aroma, that of damp wood.