The Devil Storm

“Ruth, wait! I can’t keep up!” What are we doing out here? We should be home. What a nightmare! I tried to follow her, but my skirt swirled in the mud and hobbled my ankles together, like an animal they were branding. As I struggled to stand against the gale, I peered into the driving rain and past a corpse of trees that swung wildly, tortured by the wind. Ruth was gone! She had simply disappeared into the night. 

I untangled my skirt and was on my feet again when a chill went up my back. Unable to capture my thoughts, they scattered like the leaves in the wind. I closed my eyes in an attempt to think.  What would Mother do?

“Look for Ruth, then go home together.” I could hear her say.

I squinted into the rain, one arm up to block the sheets of water. To my left, the railroad tracks cut through the brush—a faster way to the Cattle Horn. Did Ruth remember that shortcut? If I pushed through, I could catch her at the diner. The wind shoved at my back, hard enough to make me stumble, and for a moment, the thought of a twister swooping down, plucking me up, and hurling me into the trees terrified me.

If Ruth were at the diner, we could wait out the storm there, although Father had boarded up the windows, and I had seen Mother lock the doors this morning, but maybe we could find a way in. Through the rain, the outline of The Cattle Horn sat solidly in the distance and gave me hope. 

I called out her name over and over, but no one answered. The back door was locked tight, so I decided to circle the porch, towards the front door. Hand over hand, I clung to the railing like a determined spider. If I let go, I was sure to be blown away. The rain soaked my coat and nightgown underneath. Strands of wet hair stung my face and covered my eyes until I could barely see. I had nothing to secure them back. Determined, I pushed forward.

“Ruth,” I screamed again, but my voice was carried away with the howling wind. I grabbed the knob on the front door. It was locked. I slammed the door with my body, but it wouldn’t budge. I slid to the floor, defeated. It was raining bullfrogs. I had to get out of the storm.

Underneath the far window was a firebox that was usually loaded with wood. Would it be packed now, or could I hide in there?  Would I fit? 

On all fours, I crawled and caught the door as it thrashed back and forth against its frame. I blessed my father as he had emptied the box of wood and moved as a blast of rain pushed me in sideways. I managed to close the door and lock out the storm. The storm beat, a mighty crescendo that built outside my hidden niche. Seconds later, a wind pulled at the door, like a determined demon, wrenching it from my hands. My fingers searched the floor for something to hold it shut and found a wide splinter of wood that I was able to shove into the crack. I was safe for the moment and cradled my knees with my arms and cried, for how long, I don’t know.

I’ll wait here until someone comes. But what about Sally? Where in tarnation was Ruth? What if Ruth is trapped in the tree? Should I try to find her and the doll? The oak was right on the other side of the railing. It wouldn’t take me long. I could climb the tree in a minute to get Ruth and Sally. They would fit here just fine. Then we would be together.

But what if they weren’t there? I shuddered at the thought of leaving safety and going into the storm again. But I had to try to save my sister.

I removed the splint, and immediately, the door swung open, the storm’s full force was back upon me. Head down, I crawled out of my hiding space and hurried off the porch, down the steps towards the tree. I yelped at the wild screeches as the wind howled through the branches.

Familiar blocks of wood nailed to the ancient oak served as a ladder. I scrambled up. The last thing I remember was a flash of light.

I woke at the foot of the oak, lying in a deep puddle and choking on a mouthful of mud. My leg pained me something awful, and I couldn’t move it.

The water was rising fast. A wave overtook me and swept me forward towards the Cattle Horn steps. I grabbed at the stair post, unwilling to let the water drag me farther. My right leg was useless. I pushed with my other leg and clawed my way up one stair, but three more faced me before I could get back onto the porch and into my cubbyhole. I dragged myself up one stair then another until I lay like a drowned possum, panting and hissing on the porch. Somehow, I found the strength to inch myself back to my hole. Grabbing my leg, I forced it in. I screamed with the pain and closed the door, replacing the wedge. 

A pool of water formed around me. Before long, the thick black liquid was to my waist. I tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Was there a place where I’d be safe? How would I get there? My heart raced, as I sat in chest-deep water when a mouse floated past, its beady black eyes, lifeless. I gasped. Thank the good lord, it wasn’t a swirling water moccasin, looking for prey.

Did Mother and Father realize we were gone? Were they looking for us? And where is Ruth?

“Help, Help, Help!” I yelled. After a time, my voice began to falter and my struggled to keep my eyes open although tears dropped into the rising water. Weak, I feared my body would float under the water, just like the mouse. 

My family, my sister. How I will miss them.