The lightning crashed down like small meteors. Swaying dangerously, the trees cracked together in the strong wind. The small light (the only one for miles) of the caravan stood out in the pouring rain, vibrating and shaking under its curse. The black wall surrounding the shack of a house was dripping as if it had jumped into a swimming pool.
Rotting from its age, the wood on the balcony was rocking back and forth like a haunted swing. The once beautiful home now had paint chipped off and wet from the rage of God’s weather. The only window on the caravan was cracked and grimy, letting out the smallest of light. A cage of death surrounded the caravan, letting no happiness out… or in…
I really like the imagery you chose to add detail to your description. I can really imagine the scene and the decaying caravan well.