A Short Story : A Story?

Decent Essays

Alex flinched as a thunderclap broke the silence, hating that every time a measly storm blew in, he’d be transported back to before America. He’d been through some serious shit, yes, even he’d admit that. But that didn’t mean that it could just pop up at random intervals in his life - especially when it was not wanted.
But he was fine. Yes, he told himself furiously, everything was fine.
‘Notfinenotfinenotfinenotfine-’ was what immediately followed as lightning lit up his tiny apartment. Things seemed to get a little blurry around the edges as he started to hyperventilate, slipping into the past.


Trees were tossing in the winds as rain beat down on the earth, tearing leaves from their rightful places. Debris was being blown everywhere, and houses were being ripped from their bases.
Alex lay curled up in a nook, desperately praying that it would soon be over. However, that was not to be, as it would last for nearly half a day. And after that, the horrors he would witness would haunt him for the rest of his days.
A nearby truck started to tip, and Alex’s breath hitched when he realized that he would be crushed if he didn’t move swiftly. It started to gain momentum, and, under a primitive, instinctual survival instinct, he scrambled away. The wind was a living entity, beating upon each person who had the misfortune to be outside. Even those who were able to take refuge in a house or shed was bombarded by the horrid sounds of the damage being dealt

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