Word Count: 362
She had jugs of fresh water, new-batteried flashlights, blankets and sleeping bags stored in the basement well in advance of the storm. She was prepared for the end of the world if it came, even if just her small world of home.
At midnight, she listened to the latest reports on the television then unplugged it. She and the kids had taken showers and dressed for bed. Clothes for a few weeks were already laid in neat stacks on the shelves she’d put up downstairs. She went around the house locking windows and doors, unplugging appliances and lamps and the single PC they all shared. With a satisfied nod, she led everyone down to the cellar.
As the wind softly blew at the walls, she fell asleep, knowing her family was safe.
In the morning, and each morning after, she checked the perimeter for leaks, knowing the rain would be heavy. She lit the oil lamp during the day and rationed out water and shared cans of spinach and pinto beans with a slice of bread for each of them in the morning.
The children loved the adventure, the darkness beyond the circle of lamplight was as snug as a robe. During the day they played hide and seek, guessing games of numbers and names, hopscotch and go-fish. Several times during the day, and especially just before bedtime, she’d tell them stories. It was fine family time spent while the storm raged around them and they ignored it completely.
It was sometime in the third week of survival that the neighbors called the police. When they broke through the front door and came down the stairs to the cellar, they found the family in the middle of eating their lunch. All looked up in surprise.
They were checked out by doctors. They were questioned by psychiatrists. They were interviewed by reporters. She told them all the same thing; that she wanted to protect her family through the danger of the storm. They finally let them go back home.
She had the front door repaired and sent the police department the bill. Then she went shopping and started restocking the shelves.
Nice! This concept is great and I enjoyed discovering where it went. Sometimes we need a storm to take us away from the things that have been keeping us apart. When the real world comes knocking at our door (or breaking it down), who wants to be woken up from the people and places that really matter? I’m glad you wrote this.
I also wanted to thank you for all the comments and feedback you left on my own 100Days project. I wish I could tell you how much they truly mean to me. Again, thank you.
Jonathan Blais
Thank you for visiting and commenting, Jonathan. And you’re welcome for same.