It had been raining for a week. School had been cancelled. No one would go outside. Endless footage of the lethal rain poured out of the television. Before the static on the TV appeared, newscasters had warned us to stay inside, as if we weren’t already huddled up in the bunker. This had happened before, according to Grandpa Bernie, in the 1930s. Back then, they had no defense against this kind of science. Most of the population had been wiped out, and not just from disintegration. Crops were dissolved, making the rain the only thing consuming anything. Houses were shattered, collapsing on anyone inside and providing intact souls with a new status: shelter-less. Now there were steel plated roofs that measured five feet thick. Anyone stupid …show more content…
It smelled. The fragrance fell somewhere between burnt broccoli and spoiled milk. Drops came from invisible clouds. Runoff ran through degraded ditches, seeming to multiply with everything it destroyed, passing on its acidic behavior to whatever it touched. It was a Tuesday when the roof collapsed in on us. The food in the bunker was running dry. Stomaches were gurgling, moaning to alert us they were empty; we were already aware. Someone had to go get more food. “I say we send Grandpa Bernie,” Emily broke the silence, reaching a finger to her nose. “He’s old and hasn’t got long to live.” I heard Mom’s squeak before I saw her look of horror. Her eyes fell to Emily’s finger, and her own rose to touch the tip of her nose. “Not it,” she mumbled, frightened. Two more hands flashed up to their corresponding faces - Andrew and Dad. I glanced at Grandpa and he glanced at me. Neither of us moved, and I wouldn’t until he gave up. He shook his head firmly, but I grabbed his hand. His eyes closed mournfully as I lifted his finger to touch his nose. I stood up. I wasn’t scared. I had always wondered what the rain felt like. No one had lived long enough to tell …show more content…
What if they never let me back in? Would I die all alone? From a drop of rain? Calming myself down, I forced myself forward and crept up the basement stairs. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far. The kitchen was at the top of the stairs, right where it had always been. I rummaged through everything - cabinets, drawers, the fridge - but to my dismay, there was nothing. We had grabbed all the food and run to the bunker with the first drop of rain. Something sizzled behind me, and I whipped around at the sound. The rain was burning through the ceiling. A single drop fell to the middle of the kitchen floor, immediately beginning to expand. I turned, terrified, to climb onto the counter, but something burned my ankle, something I didn’t dare consider. I leapt from the counter to the top of the stairs, a move that shouldn’t have been possible. Taking the stairs three at a time, I almost tripped and fell. Somehow I managed to stay upright until I was safely back inside the bunker where I collapsed on one of the cots, exhausted. It should have hurt. It should have killed me. Yet I was still here. It was so intriguing. And so deadly. Maybe. With the next drop that fell, I made my decision. So once everyone was asleep, I stepped back through the seven foot thick steel door and felt the
covers the area, causing people, animals, and structures to practically disintegrate. Even years afterwards people were still dying and having
Well, my escape plan failed. I was able to escape to the woods but later that evening I realized I could never make the long journey alone in the woods with no food or water.
I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house which I
The cry for help was not heard. Emily came up with so many excuses to spend some quality time with her mother and they were not acknowledged. “Can’t you go some other time, Mommy, like tomorrow?”(Pg.225) Emily’s mother was young herself and had a rough raising did not know the signs of asking for help.
It may not even be considered a field anymore, bodies and blood covered most of the ground. I reached my blood-splattered hand down and patted my horse. I felt wetness hit my hand. The sky slowly started to cry, tears full of sadness, regret. Regret? I couldn’t feel regretful. I flicked the cloak of regret off of me like a bug. I watched before me as I saw men and animals dying in front of my eyes. What is the point of all of this? I heard distant groaning. The once clear, beautiful, blue river, now a vile, dark red.
Halfway up it was beginning to look doubtful, the wind was picking up and everyone was getting out rain gear to prepare for the storm. I voiced my doubts to Phil and he said we might as well keep going until the lighting got too close. So we did. The thunder grew in volume and the echoes magnified the noise to a dull roar sometimes. Then suddenly it began to ebb. The wind died down and lightening came less frequently. I exchanged relieved looks with Phil after a bit, but kept the pace up--I didn’t want to take chances. Eventually it hit us, but by then it was nothing more then a heavy rain. We kept moving, if slower, and made it over the ridge with no other problems. That night I enjoyed the meal a little more and slept a little deeper realizing how much is important that easily goes unnoticed until something threatens to take it away.
My sweat soaked shirt was clinging to my throbbing sunburn, and the salty droplets scalded my tender skin. “I need this water,” I reminded myself when my head started to fill with terrifying thoughts of me passing out on this ledge. I had never been so relieved to see this glistening, blissful water. As inviting as the water looked, the heat wasn't the only thing making my head spin anymore. Not only was the drop a horrifying thought, but I could see the rocks through the surface of the water and couldn't push aside the repeating notion of my body bouncing off them when I hit the bottom. I needed to make the decision to jump, and fast. Standing at the top of the cliff, it was as if I could reach out and poke the searing sun. Sweat dripped from my forehead, down my nose, and on its way to my dry, cracked lips which I licked to find a salty droplet. My shirt, soaked with perspiration, was now on the ground as I debated my
stood upon, was frightening. The only was to go was down. I took a deep
needed to stay for the night as my car had broken down and I had
Manufactured buildings, transportation, and innovations need room to grow, humans expand by conquering what does not belong to them. Storms, tornadoes, hurricanes, tsunamis, earthquakes, wildfires are nature’s way of taking it back, of starting fresh. The circle created by Mother Nature is simple: birth, survival, and death. Both nature and humans start with birth, survival is encompassed with growth and discovery, death is removal of the old and decaying for a new birth, and so the cycle repeats. Just as humans give life to future generations, nature gives life to new species. New generations create new discoveries, regrowth freshens the air and life of the once destroyed. The beginning sets the path for what is to come, what is to be discovered, what is to be destroyed, and what is to, eventually, be
Everything on the playground seemed to be melting, like wax onto the asphalt. Heat waves traveled on the ground, like the ocean during a storm. The little girl sat with her friends in the shade, sweating in her red hat. Recess was almost over, and all the children couldn’t wait. She reluctantly removed the hat, setting it on the ground.
Hurricane Katrina By: Kiran. Subramanian Imagine waking up in the morning groggy because you have been hearing thunder all through the night. You decided to go make yourself some breakfast.
As I walked in to their bedroom, I found my mother sitting on the bed, weeping quietly, while my father lay on the bed in a near unconscious state. This sight shocked me, I had seen my father sick before, but by the reaction of my mother and the deathly look on my father’s face I knew that something was seriously wrong.
Dark, arcus clouds rolled over the city, the fast-moving formations blocking out the sun, adding to the gloomy atmosphere of Tom’s room. Moments later, a blue-white flash of lightning split the leaden sky, followed by a low rumble of distant thunder. The impending storm perfectly fit Tom’s melancholy mood, and turning away from the window, he packed the last of his belongings in a carrier bag and placed it on the bed.
Suddenly, I snapped awake. It really was the day of my party, and it really was pouring down rain outside. I trudged out of my room and had breakfast, all the while staring gloomily at the storm raging outside.