There I sat, alone, on the bridge above the highway. It was cold out and I wasn’t wearing anything but swimming shorts, sneakers and a hat with large pink rabbit ears. The tornado just passed. There was debris all over the roads.
I was at the supermarket when it happened. The manager put us all in the back and told us to hold on tight to anything bolted into the ground. I was terrified. Once the tornado had passed, we left our ‘safe haven’ and realized it wasn’t all that safe. There was nothing left. The roof got ripped away from the walls and the walls pulled from the foundation. The only thing left was the room we were in, specifically made for natural disasters.
I went outside to see the damage that had been done, and to no surprise at all, everything was done for. That’s when I started to panic. I began to run home. I hurried down streets, over debris and around whatever was left of houses and buildings. People were stepping out of the comfort of their hide outs from the storm, looking at the mess the wicked storm left behind. Tears began running down my cheeks as I neared myself closer to home, or whatever would be left of it.
I reached my supposed street. Neighbors were going through their homes’ rummage, helping others break free from underneath the rubble. I got closer to my abode and any hope of finding something quickly diminished. I reach my front lawn and wiped away the salty residue of a tear, from my cheek, that had not long passed. There was nothing left, other than a broken home. Literally.
From about a block away, I could hear the sirens of rescue crew on their way. I jumped into the mess of what used to be a house myself. I started calling out for my mother. The sole person I knew to be home at the time of the tornado. I panicked more as the seconds clocked by and there was no response. I continued yelling out for my mom. I began bawling as minutes started to go by. I heard nothing. No response from anyone. I started going deeper into the rubble.
I was pulled away from my house by a police officer. He warned me that broken wood and metal was no place for a child to play. I screamed at him, informing him that my mother was under there somewhere. He waved over a pair of rescue personnel and instructed them to start looking for people. I hadn’t realized but I began to clutch onto his arm, hoping that they’d find someone alive.
I sat in an ambulance, recovering from the shock of the tornado. I had a few cuts and scrapes but nothing too bad. I was wrapped in a blanket, staring at the ground. Few minutes passed when a police officer approached me. He looked upset. He told me that they found my mom. My eyes grew wide and a smile spread across my face. He then looked away from me. My facial expression dropped right away. I knew what was wrong almost instantly. He then continued, telling me my mother had passed away. I didn’t respond. He put his hand on my shoulder and tried to get my attention. I pushed him away and began running. I knew I was being stared at. Followed. I didn’t stop. Eventually, I could tell that I was no longer being followed. Whoever was following me, had been stopped. Tears streamed down my face, being pushed back by the wind as I ran. I didn’t stop running until I reached the bridge. I threw myself to the curb. I huddled my legs close to my body and cried.
There I sat, alone, on the bridge above the highway. It was cold out and I wasn’t wearing anything but swimming shorts, sneakers and a hat with large pink rabbit ears. The tornado just passed. There was debris all over the roads.