I Can Always Write Another One

Posted: September 7, 2014 by writingsprint in Drama
Tags: , , ,

storm prompt

The emergency broadcast system came on. “A severe storm warning has been advised for your area. Affected locations may experience winds in excess of fifty miles per hour and extreme lightning conditions. Residents are advised to seek shelter immediately. Drivers are advised to park and seek shelter or remain in your cars if no shelter is available.”

“Steve!” I heard my wife calling. She came running in holding up her smartphone. “The weather app says—”

“I heard.”

The sky to the west had been growing dark. I saw a black streak on the horizon.

“That’s just the edge. That band should hit us in about thirty minutes,” she said. She held up a radar map on her iPad.

“We should hole up in the basement.” It was underground. I looked around at all the beautiful windows and views. “We’re probably going to get falling trees.”

“Or flying rocks.”

I sighed. There wasn’t time to board it up. “I never put together that disaster kit. I’ll go to ready.gov and see what we need.”

“You take a look and I’ll get started with water, first aid and food.”

I thought about grabbing my backup hard drive of that novel I’d been working on. Not yet. Focus on the essentials. If either of us died with a hard drive in our back pockets because we didn’t grab batteries or a can opener, I would never forgive myself.

Our dog started barking as we ran up and down the stairs to the basement like madmen. Then it barked more as thunder rolled over the house. He hated storms.

We grabbed batteries. Plastic bags. Tools.

Medicine. Pet food. Blankets.

Everything else on the basic supply kit that we could get our hands on.

The storm was ten minutes out. As I came upstairs again, I saw rain pouring down our windows in sheets. The roof sounded like a hailstorm hit it. The sky to the west looked red. I’d seen sky turn green before but never red. That couldn’t be good.

A flash of lightning blinded me. The thunder hit almost instantly and sounded like a cannon shot. Two rocks hit our windows and made glass spider webs.

“Let’s get to the basement!” I cried.

“Time to go!” Lori agreed.

I grabbed the dog and carried it downstairs. We heard more glass breaking behind us. The power flickered. My wife and I looked at each other as we hunkered down in a nook behind some shelves.

“How long is it supposed to last?” I asked.

Lori checked her iPad. “Internet’s out. But before it went down, it said three hours.”

The house creaked in a way that I’d never heard before. It sounded like its bones were bending. My wife and I held hands.

Photo credit: unknown. Used without permission.


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