Creative Story : A Short Story

I stand and stare in disbelief as the car’s bonnet is crumpled into the bulky metal pole on the side of the road. My limbs are numb and I am drenched from head to toe. The glistening droplets continuously drip off the tip of my nose as I realize how much trouble I’m going to get into. The wind wails around me as if it’s saying “you’re going to be in so much trouble”. I suddenly get back into the car and attempt to reverse the car so no one will see the car rammed into the power pole. Mum and Dad's pristine new car. Scratched. Dented. Ruined.

We finally made it to the car accident. The roads were blocked off with wooden caution signs and bright red flares that lit up the darkness around the scene. I saw Mike’s car, a 2016 Ford Focus. The car was cut into two pieces by a massive tree. By the looks of it, he lost control and spun out.

Then wind swept away branches and old lumber that sat in the front yard and swung and tossed it around in the air like dancing balloons debris flew around. With a spine tingling snap crash the window shattered and the branch from the apple tree that sat in the front yard came tumbling to a stop clattering at my base. The rain came pouring in the gaping window soaking everything in it’s path in freezing water. As a tornado ripped through the countryside tumbling trees, cars, people, and houses the swirling black mass of destruction narrowly passed. Without warning a truck skipped across the yard towards the house. Counting down the seconds before the truck would arrive and rip through the house, I chimed write at five o’clock and I realized what would happen. With unbelievable ease the truck ripped through the house sending wood and concrete everywhere. Splintered wood and twisted metal shrapnel was sent across the yard and I was struck by the crushing weight of the truck, finally my time had

"What?" he motioned to the scene around us. I could hear sirens in the background with students on their phones taking pictures. The noise was so loud it pierced my ears. I looked around and then I saw what all the commotion was about. The car was smashed against the fence surrounding the Driver 's parking lot.

It was almost as if that was nature’s way of dousing me with frigid water to end stupefaction or a deep slumber, but to the best of it’s ability with what it had on hand in the present situation. I promptly blinked my eyes in repeated fashion for several seconds, in lieu of using my hands to wipe the sleepiness of my eyes as they were coated in filth from the barn, and regained my senses as the wind dwindled to inexistence. The blades of grass around me, of moderate height, flexed and waved in accordance with wind but began returning to their natural looped and erect positions over the span of mere seconds. Their motion, or lack of in that moment, caught my attention as I began to gaze about the land and directed my eyes towards the right of where I was standing, and the barn, and found the wind continuing its reign of motion upon the grass. I found it intriguing to notice the phenomenon and observed as the same reign gradually fell over the land nearing and eventually all around me once more, similar to the moments preceding that

I heard myself scream. Crash. Glass from the back window flies forward in slow motion, it looked like snow. Jolted forward, I hit my head and

“There was a roar that seemed to make the pavement heave; a shower of light objects pattered on his back. When he stood up he found that he was covered in fragments of glass from the nearest window. He walked on”

Hands gripped the wheel as she struggled to keep the roiling wind from tossing the car into the ditch. The grime from the road battered the windshield with each car that passed. The wipers worked valiantly to keep her field of vision clear.

He recalls what happened the images of the shadow of a man behind his back and then after that he heard a loud noise. Kevin was able to drive but soon enough he passed out and drifted off the pavements.

The narrator notes that “[the] wind seemed just shy of gale force, and I learned later it was caused by a mountain of compressed air, tumbling down the tower as it buckled in on itself, and as it came roaring toward me, I knew it was coming” (98). PERSONIFICATION, MOOD AND FORESHADOWING

The truck plowed into the car. The car had flipped one time, two times, maybe more. The tiny, sangria red car had been disemboweled. Mirrors smashed. People flew. Car pieces were scattered all across the road. The sounds of horns, music, and clanking metal enveloped the me.

The narrator retreats, with a fear about him, into his chambers once again. He then hears a similar tapping, albeit a louder one, from his window. He steels himself against the fear, commanding himself be calm, and offers an explanation to himself of the noises origins: the wind.

The baseball flew in an arch toward the car. We watched it land right on the glass. The impact was loud and painful.

He swiftly gets out of the car to check the damage. Luckily the bullet didn’t go through the car. During the ride home, I could feel the profuse amount of anger and disappointment in the atmosphere. I still couldn’t believe what I did. The scene repeated in my head the ride home.

Crows, seagulls, and birds alike all swarmed the car like angry bees throwing themselves at the windows. Mitch tried to go faster but he was already going 80 on a windy road he couldn't risk crashing. Lydia and Melanie are swaying