Storms | Teen Ink

Storms

December 19, 2014
By Anonymous

I see absolute darkness. It takes me a minute to understand and realize that my eyes are indeed open, even though it seems as if they aren’t. I yell, and it’s almost as if the room is absorbing every sound, except for the sound of my beating heart, beating so rapidly that I’m surprised at how calm I am. When I open my mouth, I taste nothing but dust, and I cough to get the taste out of my mouth. I wait, and I realize that I am able to walk. That this is anything but a dream. I walk until I find a wall. The wall is rough, and it hurts my hand when I touch it, but I know that walking along the wall might just help me get out of here. I keep my right hand, at least I hope it’s my right one, along the wall at all times as I walk. The wall is wet where I start, almost misted with something, and in other places, dry as bones, and others the wall is soaked. I see lights starting to illuminate the room. What I saw horrified me. Bodies, parts of bodies, insides from all the bodies had been strewn across the room. I looked at the walls, and there were covered in blood. I looked at my hands that were covered with the blood as well. The blood of all these people. Of what was, all of these people.
    

That’s when the smell entered my nose. It was worse than anyone could imagine. I’m not even sure I would be able to explain the smell of the rotting flesh and bones of these people. It was also then, that I found that I was never in a room in the first place. Hell, I wasn’t even walking. I was on my knees, crawling along what were walls, but is now rubble. Blood stains, both wet, and both dry were scattered around. Staining the crumbling stone and rubble around me crimson. The more I looked the more horrified I became. I began to recognize the people around me. The last thing I could remember, was being locked inside a room and told my teacher to stay there. I remember hearing everything, everyone, and then nothing. And then, I heard everything once more. I remember the lights in what used to be a classroom, shattering, as the walls came down on all of us. The glass falling to the floor. I saw one of the walls tumbling down. And then… Everything was black. I tried to remember everything I heard. The one thing that stood out the most were the sirens. They were so loud. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t heard them before. I hear them every Saturday, right at noon. Maybe it was the situation that made them seem louder than before. Louder than ever. When I heard nothing, I assumed it was over. That my teacher would come get me, and take me home. That didn’t happen. I realized that it had only started.

    

Back to where I was after the chaos. I sat and I waited. There was an annoying ringing in my ears, probably from the blaring sirens. I had started to hear again, at least. I was going to go crazy if I hadn’t been able to hear something. Make sure that I surely, was not dead. I began to yell as loud as I could. For anybody. Anything. After seemingly hours, I heard voices calling back. It took time. As well as a lot of counseling to help me cope with that horrible day. But eventually got past. I still visit my best friend every day. I bring her flowers, even though she hates them. Well…hated them. I talk to her, even though she never answers. That’s okay though, she was always a good listener as well as a good talker. But she listens now more than ever. I never did tell you what day all of this happened. What was supposed to be a normal school day became the day I grew up. The day I lost my best friend, and many, many other friends and teachers. I lost my house and school. All to a storm. Mother Nature is a powerful and strange thing, but she has her reasons, I’m sure. After all, May 20th was only a storm.


The author's comments:

My English teacher has us do bellwork every morning when we come into class, she likes to see what makes us, tick, you might say. What makes us think, and relate to certain things. I relate to some of the things she has a write, but I relate fairly well to the pieces or assignments about sympathy, putting yourself in a different position. This is what I wrote. Storms can be beautiful, but only when you aren't affected. 


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