ROUND 1
Junemoon
It
was a dark and stormy night. Myra loved weather. Many people see
weather as their enemy. Not Myra. The weather channel predicted a night
and day of storms. End of the summer storms were one of her favorite
kinds of weather. She lived enough toward the center of the country that
hurricanes never reached and yet not far enough west to be in Tornado
Alley (although sometimes she considered moving to Kansas or Missouri
just to experience the excitement of a tornado watch).
Storms
were the best of all weather. Summer storms like tonight were the very
best. The rain didn’t start until nearly nine. Myra was prepared. Myra
was prepared. She had her dad’s tarp that he used to cover the woodpile
during snow storms. She had hosed it down early in the afternoon and let
it dry. When the rain started she wrapped the tarp around her like a
tent and went out into the backyard. She sat down in the lawn chair with
her back to the house. Their wooded back yard adjoined the neighbor’s
even woodier backyard. She didn’t know the neighbors, she only knew her
parents didn’t like them. Sometimes they had loud parties and the were
“probably some kind of drug dealers” (according to her father), or
“young good-for-nothings” (according to her mother).
Tonight
there was only one small light shining through the trees. The rain fell
harder, thunder and lightening began somewhere far away but was coming
closer. Myra had promised her parents she would come in if it got very
close. But she didn’t intend to do it. The wind was trying to pull the
tarp off her but it was well tucked around her. Then the light in the
neighbor’s house went off and the light from her parent’s house went
out. Oh, good! Wonderful! Myra loved it. “Come in, Myra. Come in right
now!” her mother called. She didn’t move.
“Get
yourself in the house, young lady!” he father called a couple of
minutes later. He had on his stern fatherly voice. “The power is off.
All of the street is dark.”
“Later!” She called back. The door slammed. They knew she was impossible.
The
lightening was getting closer, the thunder cracked sharp as a blade and
other thunder rolled like a jet warming up. The rain was falling so
hard Myra was getting wet even inside the tarp but she didn’t care. It
was chilly but not really cold. She loved it.
What
was that? Two lights in the woods were sweeping back and forth like
police searching for something. Couldn’t be police, she hadn’t heard any
sirens, saw no flashing lights. Was it the neighbors?
ROUND 2
anwaname
No, that
couldn't be right either. The light was coming from overhead, shining on
the tops of the trees. Myra perked up a bit, sitting up straighter
under the blue plastic. The light trailed over the trees, casting
everything in odd contrast. She leaned forward to get a better look, but
she was momentarily blinded by a flash of lightning.
The clap of
thunder that followed the strike was only a few seconds behind. The
storm was coming closer and now Myra could see the trees starting to
whip in the oncoming wind. It was not that bad where she sat in her
front yard, but it was coming fast.
Still, the
approaching storm could not hold her attention in the face of spotlights
now dancing against the sea of trees. Who in the world could be out in
this weather?
Smiling,
Myra grabbed the flashlight she had set by her chair and gathered the
tarp around her shoulders so that it would cover her head and not drag
the ground, not that it seemed to be doing much good at this point. She
flicked the switch on her light and made her way into the edge of the
woods.
The wind
hit just as she reached the cover of the trees. Bits of leaves and dirt
flew past her and she shivered at the sudden chill. She had not gone
thirty feet when she heard the oddest noise. It wasn't loud - just
barely audible over the sound of the storm. It sounded like the high
pitch whir of a motor. She turned and followed it the best she could in
the din of the storm.
ROUND 3
Junemoon
The wind
tugged at the tarp, so she gripped it all the tighter. “Unghh!” she
grunted, as the tarp tightened even more and the wind was nearly knocked
out of her. In an instant, she was flung up into the sky. “Holy crap!”
she shouted, and she was forced to close her eyes against the swirling
debris that followed her into the air. She felt the tops of the sycamore
trees with their flat leaves slapping at her ankles and wondered why on
earth she hadn’t gone inside.
“Grab this!”
Myra heard a voice but couldn’t divine the direction it was coming from.
“Hurry!!” it pleaded.
Now she
could feel a rough sisal rope sawing against her cheek and she grabbed
it for all she was worth, with her hands, her knees and her feet “just
like in 5th grade” she thought.
As she was
dragged shivering through the storm, she felt a few sets of hands
grabbing her from above and dragging her into some species of wooden
vessel.
ROUND 4
Moominbrooke
The world
around her seemed to be spinning, everything was blurred and Myra
couldn't distinguish any particular shapes anymore. Her eyelids became
heavy as if weights had been glued to them. She tried to force herself
to stay awake and alarmed, to not just give in to the enticing darkness
that awaited her, to be aware of what happened, of who it was that
dragged her over uneven ground in her little rescue boat … but even
though she tried to put up a fight, her shocked body dosed off into an
uneasy kind of unconciousness.
The last
words she heard before she completely lost contact to the world were
spoken by a female: „ … glad you found 'er … horrible
weather … coulda been carried away … jus' like lil' Dorothee ...get 'er
in alright ...“
ROUND 5
Fever
Myra woke
up in a very soft bed, under a very warm blanket, her head buried in a
pillow that wore the scent of forest and pine trees. Still half asleep
she smiled at the comforting scent – just to be startled a second later.
Suddenly she was wide awake. Something was wrong. It was a lovely
scent, it smelt like something she would like to call home, but here
home never smelled like pine trees.
Sitting up
straight in bed she turned around to take in the room she was in: It was
a small one - apparently she was in a wooden house – with a fine layer
of dust on everything. Except for the bed, there was not a lot of
furniture in the room: A bookshelve, a small cupboard and a little
table. But there were lots of posters pinned to the walls and books were
piled on the floor around the table. It was a cosy room, a little
messy, but cosy. Once the first moment of fear had passed, Myra felt
rather curious. This room didn't look like anything to be afraid of. She
swung her legs out of bed.
That very
moment the door swung open and in hurried her parents, their faces
crumpled with worry and at the sight of her tears of relief rolled down
their faces. „Myra, darling, you're safe!“ They hugged her tightly, her
mum stroking her face time after time, as if she was feeling for
invisible injuries.
After the
first joy had faded, Myra realised they weren't alone. A young woman was
standing in the door smiling at them. Myra's father followed her gaze
and got up on his feet. „Thank you so much! If it weren't for your
boyfriend and you … I'm so relieved you found her.“ Her mum stepped
towards the young woman, grabbed her hand and shook it almost violently:
„We're so grateful! How can we ever thank you? Please, at least join us
for dinner tonight, that's the least we can do.“ The woman smiled and
nodded. Then she looked at Myra and gave her a little secret wink.
Myra's
parents lead her out – they couldn't stop talking about how worried they
had been and how relieved they were. Myra didn't listen properly. She
was still amazed. Before leaving the foreign house, the woman took her
by the shoulder and whispered in her ear: „It still was a beautiful
storm, wasn't it?“ Then she opened the door and Myra stepped out. She
looked directly at her own house. With a knowing smile she turned to her
neighbour once again and nodded.
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