Blog #3

A wave of terror flooded through me as I stumbled into the decimated shell of my home. I cautiously treaded across the kitchen floor and made my way down the hallway that led to my room. As I tip toed around the rubble that once made up my safe haven, my sanctuary, my mind flashed back to that night when it happened. It had been a month since what the media had called “The Perfect Storm” struck my small hometown in Missouri.  My family and I were all sitting around the living room watching “The Bourne Identity” on cable when our program was interrupted by an urgent news message alerting all residents in the area to vacate their homes immediately as there was what some were calling the storm of the century headed our way.

Convinced that it was simply yet another thing that the media had blown way out of proportion just like they had with the swine flu and countless other stories, we continued to watch our movie completely aloof to what may or may not be going on outside.

However our interest in this storm was peaked the instant we heard the dense rumble of thunder overhead. But something was different. This didn’t sound like the usual rumble that we heard around these parts. This sounded much more malicious. Like a predator on the hunt for its next meal. As the sinister grumble from the sky continued to grow. My family and I grew somewhat anxious. My mother suggested that we head the television warning and evacuate to a safer place but my dad being the stubborn headstrong character that he is insisted that we stay and that it was nothing to be afraid of.

After another hour or so, the thunder became more of a roar that a low rumble and the wind sounded like a screaming banshee outside our windows. At this point, even my father was uneasy and decided that maybe it was indeed a good idea that we evacuated. Agreeing, we all headed outside to where our jeep was parked. As my two little brothers and myself piled into the back seat, my parents stood motionless beside the vehicle almost in shock. Their eyes were fixed on something that was behind my brothers and me. It was out of our immediate line of sight so I scrambled out of the car to see what they were so very intently fixated upon. Suddenly frozen in shock just like my parents were, I stared down the road at a massive spiraling column of dirt and dust. My father, forcing himself out of his disbelief shouted as loud as his lungs would allow, “everybody out of the car!” my two brothers immediately fled the vehicle and dashed right back into the house and the rest of us were right behind them.

We all rushed into the basement, and hid under the stairs where the safest place during this kind of incident was. As we all huddled together, terrified at what was inevitably about to happen, not a word was said. Nothing needed to be said. We all knew what everyone else was thinking. We were about to lose everything.

We heard the tornado grow closer and closer. Indicated by the flying debris spiraling about outside and the continuously growing scream of the wind just inches away from us. We all braced ourselves as we heard the tornado grow closer, closer, and closer. Every muscle in our bodies tensed as we heard the vicious phenomenon that Mother Nature had coughed forth tear through the front of our house. We could hear everything above us being ripped apart. A violent swirl of confusion flooded my head. I was thinking of everything, yet I could think of nothing. Sheer panic and distress in the eyes of my family, I forced myself to seem as calm as I possibly could as everything that we knew and loved was being indiscriminately ripped apart directly above us.

The violent force of the tornado grew to be calmer as it passed over the foundation of where our house once was. Surprisingly despite the shear amount of destructive force that was looming right above us, the staircase seemed all but unharmed amidst all of the chaos. Alone, I stood up and went to make my way around the staircase. Right before I began to climb the steps, I looked back to see my mother shoot me a very uneasy look. Disregarding her worried glance, I slowly, ever so slowly, made my way up the staircase.

When I emerged from my basement, I was utterly shocked as I looked around. My house was completely and utterly destroyed. All that remained was the floor and some of the walls and rooms. The rest seemed to have been torn from existence.

I slumped back down the staircase, and huddled back into the circle that my family was in. Once again, no words had to be said. They all knew what I was thinking.

We all sat there for hours more until the storm had passed and it was safe to return to the surface. When we did so, a caravan that was sent to look for people who had not evacuated and stuck around greeted us. Feeling like complete idiots for not leaving when we had the chance, we sheepishly boarded the caravan and rode along until we reached undisturbed civilization. That was a month ago.

As I stood there in the remains of what was once my room, I scanned the floor for anything that may have been left behind. Realizing that literally everything was probably thrown half way across the state, I abandoned my search after a flimsy minute o r two. Walking back through the ruins, I stopped and closed my eyes, and imagined my home back the way it was before the disaster. My brother running through the house, my mom and dad discussing the latest current events, and myself glued to a computer screen looking at everyone’s latest Facebook posts. Reopening my eyes, I simply looked around, smiled, and treaded back to the car I had come here in. I opened the door and just stood there. Still not completely accepting what had become of my life. And to tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure if I ever would.