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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/404043-The-Storm
Rated: E · Fiction · Drama · #404043
a family's summer vacation goes bad when a horrible storm hits.
This is my first story so bear with me if it sucks a little!

It was late summer, very hot, and I was bored. We were spending our summer vacation in Corsica. We had been there for the entire summer and there was not much to do. According to my mother this was a 'family vacation'. To her that means no t.v., no computer, no telephone, no music, nothing. So I was obviously bored. Besides that, 'family vacation' doesn't just mean boredem like you've never felt it before, but it also means my mom's siter's family. Just how I wanted to spend my summer, with my annoying cousin Marcy. She is the worst person in the world to spend even a few hours with, let alone the entire summer. I guess my aunt Jayne (my mom's sister) made up for with her adopted son Jeremy. He's not annoying or strange or anything at all like Marcy. Probably because he's adopted. Otherwise, I probably would have jumped off a cliff after the first day. Anyway, it was hot and I was bored. I had seen everything there was to see, been everywhere there was to go, done everything there was to do. It was getting dark, though it was kind of early. From the porch of our beach house I could see the waves getting bigger and bigger. The air had the smell of rain, and the wind was picking up speed. The front door opened and Jeremy came out on the porch. "I have to get some food for dinner," he said, "You wanna come?" "Sure," I said, "why not. Anything's better than sitting here and letting my brain rot." I got up and we started down the driveway. "Be careful," my mom called after us. "The radio weather station says there's a bad storm coming in." Jeremy shrugged and we went on. It was a ten minute walk into town and by the time we got there the storm had already started. We ran into a small produce store to escape the rain. This wasn't rain like I had ever seen it before. The drops were bigger than my fist, and in five minuets the water was up to my ankels. The wind made it even worse. By the time we got to the produce store we could hardly walk because we were going against it. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled so loud, my eardrums bulged. The produce store wasn't a very good shelter. The walls shook and the roof creaked and leaked. "We'll just wait out the storm in here," Jeremy said. Too be honest, I've always been afraid of storms. Especially when there's high wind involved. I was getting pretty nervous. My palms started to sweat and my heart was racing by the time the roof of the store was blown off. "Everybody," someone yelled above the roaring wind, "into the church!" As quickly as we could, Jeremy and I waded through the now knee-deep water to the small church across the street. It was old, but certainly looked like a better place to go than the produce store. Once we were inside, we were told to go into the choir room, which was in the center of the building. "Are you ok?" Jeremy asked me "You look pale." "Well," I said, "we are in the middle of some kind of hurricane or tornado right? How much color am I supposed to have?" "Sorry," Jeremy said, looking a little hurt. "I'm sorry," I said, "I get really mean when I'm scared." I took some deep breaths and sat down on a chair. Jeremy sat down beside me and we waited, listening to the storm outside. There was a loud popping noise and the thunder kept rumbling. There was a crash and the sound of something hitting the roof. A few seconds later, the lights went out. Now I was getting really scared. There were about twenty other people in the room, ten from the choir, the rest mostly women and children. Someone lit some candles and the priest came in and started praying. I tried to relax, but it was hard to. Suddenly there was a crash from outside and a wall came tumbling down. We tried to run to the back of the room, but the wind was so strong, it started to lift me! I grabbed onto Jeremy, hoping that he would be able to save me, but the wind was stronger than he, and we both were lifted. I'm not sure how long we were in the air, probably just a few moments, but it felt like an eternity.
Finally, we were dropped on a pile of rocks that was surronded by the swirling waters. I was bleeding from a cut on my head and was very sore. It took me a few moments to catch my breath. Jeremy's leg was bleeding and his arm was twisted ina grotesque way so you could see his bone.
Helpless, we stood in the freezing cold rain and high winds. We knew we were in trouble. The waters around us were getting higher and higher. But there was no safe place to go. We didn't know how deep the water had gotten while we were in the church. looking around, though, we could tell it was deep. The entire town was covered with water, the only thing visible of most of the buildings were roofs.
Then the water became too deep for us to stand on the rocks. We tried to swim to some trees, but the water current took us farther and farther away from any refuge there was. Waves splashed over our heads, lightning lit up the sky, thunder roared, and now the rain had turned into hail. I was giving up. I was to cold and sore to try to fight the waters. The storm was just getting worse, not better.
Just as I was ready to give up all hope, a bright light shone down from the dark skies above. For a moment I thought I was dead and going to Heaven. Then I heard a load whirring noise and realized it was a helicopter. A man in an orange suit came down a rope with a basket. He grabbed me and threw me in and I was pulled up to saftey.
"What's your name?" one of the pilots asked.
"Ashley Greggson," I said, watchingg as they pulled Jeremy out of the waters.
It seemed that finally, the storm was over. . .


Sitting in the backseat of my mom's minivan, I looked at the rain coming down. Just a light drizzle, nothing more. The sun was already beginning to shine through the clouds. We pulled into our driveway and I let out a sigh. It had been one crazy summer, and I was glad it was over.
© Copyright 2002 Amanda-Nicole (kiwibyrd at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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