Thursday, July 2, 2015



The rain lashes against End House.
The walls teeter on the foundation.
Windows blow out.
Glass flies everywhere.

What can we do?
Is it too late to run?
A strong storm is brewing outside.
Could we make it to to the beach alive?

The walls are rumbling.
The floors are shaking.
Ceilings are collapsing.
Time to go.

The front door is covered in a red ooze.
An ooze that slithers and eats furniture.
We'll take the back door.
So many pieces of the house to crawl over.

We leave the destroyed house behind us.
We step outside onto the pool deck.
The trees are waving their arms in terror.
The wicker furniture are being lifted in the air.

Is no where safe?
The furniture is being thrown into the pool by the raging winds.
I can feel myself being pushed forward.
We hold hands but we're not strong enough to fight back.

The tornado sweeps everything and everyone--the house,
Furniture, and the small family--into the pool.
We're all going down into the pool.
We fall down a dark tunnel into the bowels of the house.

The house disappears.
The ground closes up.
The sun comes out.
A field of flowers replace the house.

What has happened to the innocent family? You may ask.
We are beneath the house,
Waiting to be saved
From The Dead.

Come and save us.


No comments:

Post a Comment