The car stalled. The roads were half washed out and the rain pounded like a blacksmith's hammer on the hood. The storms began a few days ago, but before that it had been a dry summer. After the first downpour, people started smiling and stopped fanning their faces. Life strained under the drops in vegetable and flower gardens.

After the first whole nights of dark heavy clouds, the constant grumble of thunder, people were still trying to be positive. Good for the forests, dry as tinder, they'd say. The river was too low anyway.

After a week and flooded basements, most weren't so forgiving. We left when the army told us to get out of town. But now the car had stalled and the water was halfway up the tire and Dad couldn't get the engine to turn over. Mom said I should try to get some sleep and I had my eyes closed when someone slammed up against the back of the car.


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CraigTowsley (joined almost 13 years ago)
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I think this site is like a power juicer to the armadillo-skinned oranges of writer's block.

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