Prompt: Today you can write about anything, in whatever genre or form, but your post must mention a dark night, your fridge, and tears (of joy or sadness; your call). Feel free to switch one ingredient if you have to (or revisit one from previous trio prompts).
New York was in a state of emergency, the winds reached 120 MPH. The flooding had wiped out all electricity. The major roads leaving town were backed up with nothing but cars stuffed with memories. It was barely 6 PM but I could tell it would be a dark night. The clouds rolled in and over my little home in what seemed like a second. The moon was nowhere to be seen.
Countless hours passed. The sun would be rising shortly. I was anxious to warm feet! My attic was as cold and moist as a fridge. I had enough canned goods to last me a few weeks but at the rate of the flood I wouldn’t need food for much longer. I could see my house slowly tearing to pieces. It was a matter of time before I floated away with my neighbours.
My mission was to be reunited with my children. Amy was 6 years old and captain of the girls basket ball team. My husband and my eldest Jenny where on route to pick her up when my T.V started acting up. The channels flipped back and forth each declaring that hurricane Joe was minutes away. I called my husband confused as to whether I should say good-bye to my family or set a plan of action. No forecast could predict this wild beast. We had been expecting no more than 5 cm of rain.
How ? was the perpetual question.
My husband told me to stay in the attic & he’d keep our girls safe. The last I heard they were on the school roof. By now the water has probably exceed that level. I could only hope and pray some one would come for their rescue.
I held on tight as the winds ripped apart the ceiling above me. I could feel my heart racing and the blood rushing to my head. The cans flew out one by one then the floor beneath me just gave out. Gone like the wind. I was miles from home, shivering and thinking about how brutal this was for my babies! My fingers clenched to a random piece of my house kept me a float. Every inch of my body ached as debris flowed beneath my feet. I felt like I had survived Titanic on my little island. One thing was missing. My husband.
Titanic was our favourite movie. We cried together every time.
Where are you now, where are my children?!
Tears rolled down my face for the very first time since hurricane Joe hit our home.
Was I ever going to hold them close again? Would I ever be able to appreciate my eldest daughter dirty looks? Please! Let me say goodbye properly!