The Storm Baby

2/13

Description Prompt 
Describe weather you've never seen before. You can make up a new meteorological disaster if you prefer. For example, I've never seen a tsunami or it could rain cats and dogs.

The Storm Baby

By Deborah J Lindsey

“Cassie! Cassie!”  Mama hollered from the back door. Cassie heard Mama perfectly well and she sounded mad. Cassie kept her seat on “Mermaid’s Rock” a few minutes more. Then she closed her book, stood up and looked around.  Something was different. The sun had completely disappeared and now dark clouds were building up in the west. The birds hushed and all of nature was stilled.  The sudden quiet was loud and ominous in Cassie’s ears.

Mama’s voice came again but this time it wasn’t one of anger but frustration and fear. The thunder boomed as Cassie scrambled up the hill from the creek.  

“Hurry Girl, it’s coming up a storm.  Fetch your brothers and I’ll get Grandma.” 

Cassie knew the drill.  She took the hands of the four-year-old twins and headed out the door. Peter, as usual came along without a fuss but Paul, as was his usual, giggled and tugged at the hand that held him.

“Come on Paul! You want to get blowed clean off this place?” Cassie yelled into the little boy’s ear as she attempted to draw him closer to her.

One glance about him was all it took for Paul. his antics ceased and he sent his small feet flying up the path that led to the root cellar. Storms were taken seriously even by the very young in Orion, Oklahoma- “Tornado Alley” some called it.

Cassie struggled hard against the wind that held the heavy wooden doors shut. At last, she managed to get them open and was down the rail ladder in an instant. The twins tumbled in after her and she led them to a place in the back.  She lit a kerosene lamp took down a quilt from the shelf, and tucked it around the little boys Shoulders. 

The root cellar was a lovely place for Cassie.  She spent many hours dreaming and pretending among the fall apples, hanging onions and rows of summer’s harvest neatly packed in jars.

Mama and Grandma were suddenly at the door with their aprons flapping violently in the wind.  Mama helped the frail woman down the stair and guided her to a low stool near the boys. 

“My baby! Oh, my baby. My baby.” 

Grandma began to rock and moan as old memories swept over her.  She had lost a baby during one of these twisters.  The baby had been snatched right out of her arms. His tiny body was found days later and miles away caught in the fork of a tree.  Grandma had never been quite the same since that time and storms as this one, bought it all back to her.

“Where’s the storm baby, Cassie?  Quick, help me look.” Mama shouted over the roar of the wind.

The storm baby was kept in the root cellar for just this type of emergency.  It was the only thing that calmed and comforted Grandma until the storm passed.

“Where’s the storm baby, Cassie?”  Mama asked again frantically searching.

Cassie knew exactly where the storm baby was. 

He was wrapped in his little blue blanket lying in the tall grass by the creek. Cassie had been pretending the story of Moses in the Bull-rush.

© Copyright February, 2017 by Deborah J Lindsey

  …Ella looked happily at the darkening sky.  She pulled on her new red rain boots and twirled her new red and white polka-dot umbrella.  She hoped this storm wouldn’t be a “duck-drowner”.  She loved all creatures and wouldn’t want any ducks hurt…

Sorry about Ella.  She slipped in and refused to leave even after I admired her new rain gear. DJL