The Embrace of a Storm

The rushing through my body. The pounding in my head. I didn't know if I would survive, and I didn't know what would happen, because, of course, the future is unknowable. I stood crouching, trying to hold my ground, but I knew I was no match, no worthy force compared to this. I freely say I was afraid. It was dark, small, loud, rattling, fierce, horrifying inside. I could feel no one around me. It felt like hours or days that I was there, but it couldn't have been more than an hour. When it was silent, I was silent; I knew that it wasn't the end, and boy, was I right. The second time was worse than the first. Anything still standing inside had toppled and shattered to the ground, even wood. It was a longer time, laying there, my face in my knees, silent tears dodging down my cheeks. And in the end, it had just…stopped. No last wind, no last rattle, no final tumble; but just…stopped. And I looked around in the dark, and found that I had survived. Thoughts of my family flashed through me. I stumbled onto my feet and attempted to find the stairs leading to the door out of the basement. I opened the door, slowly for the effect of the scene, but there was nothing. The furniture, shredded, the lights, broken and shattered, and the walls…Gone. I faced the continuing, endless line of other damaged homes and I looked at the people running and screaming, crying and praying. But what I didn't expect to see was my whole family, sprinting towards me, arms open, crying prayers of thanks. I just stared at them, eyes wet, and their embrace hit me harder than the storm.