The blanket bunched up in her fist, she started counting backwards from one thousand. The first night of the storm she’d counted from fifty. Each time it didn’t make her feel better, she rose the number. How far would she get until she didn’t have to count anymore?
The window swung back and hit the wall, furthering the dent. Her mother had taped the window down, but the rain had wore it and the window was always swinging with the winds of the storm.
The storm had caused much more damage, though. The wood of the floors was splintering, soaking wet. The paint was peeling, the color having already faded. The electricity had gone out on the second night. No light. No heat.
There was another kind of damage, the internal damage. Her father and youngest brother had left for Europe a day before the storm, and she knew there was no chance of them getting back until the storm was tamed.
The smashes of rain on the house were her lullaby, forcing her into sleep when she got numb enough. The thunder punctuated the sound of her heart beat, matching the tempo. The lightning lit up the sky, and when it was close to her she reveled in the change from the gray that covered both the sky and her room.
The door across the room creaked, noting the presence of her mother. She lifted the blanked so she could peep through a small hole.
“Dear,” Her mother called out, “The radio went out today.”
She nodded to herself, having already guessed this. Her mother only came in here now to bring more news of what the storm had destroyed.
Her mother left the room then, the scent of her watery perfume trailing behind her. She was careful to close the door; too much force and it would break, just like the window, just like her daughter. Always by herself, even before the storm. Always locked away in her room. Staring blankly at walls, muttering to herself… Her mother shook her head, padding lightly into the kitchen to salvage some of the food that wasn‘t bad, crushed or soaked like the rest of the house.
When everything was quiet again, the young girl pulled the blanked around her again. She pulled her knees up to her chest, listening to the rain, waiting for the numbness that would lull her to sleep.
The Modern Times
Friday, January 10th
Three weeks ago, the raging storm had started. Now, it is over, but the wreckage remains. Many houses are either knocked completely to the ground or in shambles.
The number of deaths is truly amazing. Just yesterday, a young girl and her mother were found in the remains of their house, which had collapsed under the strain of the storm…
{*}{*}{*}Friday, January 10th
Three weeks ago, the raging storm had started. Now, it is over, but the wreckage remains. Many houses are either knocked completely to the ground or in shambles.
The number of deaths is truly amazing. Just yesterday, a young girl and her mother were found in the remains of their house, which had collapsed under the strain of the storm…
This is my entry for the Stormy Weather Contest on deviantART. Please give me advice - I want to enter it soon.
In the meantime, I'm working on the Magical Muse Contest as well.
xoxo
-{mari}
1 comment:
I liked it. But, I dont' really knwo much about the contest, so don't go by me...
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