The Three Of Them Walking Everyday : Mr. Mason

As I begin to read Lydia’s story, I recall the days that led up to the named storm, Hurricane Katrina. It was the year 2005. Most of the people I came in contact with were tracking the storm and wondered if the storm would come our way. We spoke of how we would prepare for the storm. I was afraid because my husband was on the road and I was alone to take care of my five-year-old child and my home. Lydia was brave as she rode out the storm.

The day was dark. I could feel a storm approaching. The gentle sunlight glistening through the clouds, now covered by a heavy mist. Drop. Drop. Drop. The coldness of the water tinged my face. And the earth shook, as a large boom erupted from the sky followed by a light crackle. By now, I was soaked, like that night. I continued walking through the deserted streets when a large flash erupted from the sky. Oh, great lightning, today was getting better and better. A woman and her young child was running towards their car to seek shelter. The walk was a long and dreadful one, I found myself looking at the place I left 15 years ago. The house was still dark and foreboding as ever, the shutters hanging off its hinges and the roof in a state of disrepair.

Although John knew that they “could expect a storm,” he left Ann to go help his father. The storm is representing that alienation physically “isolating her”. Ann wants a more affectionate and passionate relationship with her husband, but he is too “simple minded” to notice what she wants, John thinks he’s giving her everything she need in life by working so hard.Which adds to Ann’s sense of isolation.Ann was eager and hopeful at first that her marriage may turn around then she became bitter, resentful, and lonely.“I knew we were going to have a storm - I told him so - but it doesn’t matter what I say. Big stubborn fool - he goes his own way anyway. It doesn’t matter what becomes of me. In a storm like this he’ll never get home. He won’t even

McKnight Malmar’s story, “The Storm”, is a suspenseful short story about a woman, later in the story revealed to be named Janet, coming home to an empty house with no sign of her husband, Ben. The story is told in third person limited point of view where the reader follows Janet who has to process her husband being gone, and finding the lifeless body of a woman while alone in her isolated home during a thunderstorm. The story starts with Janet being excited and relieved to come home to her husband, where she imagines a kind, almost platonic Ben to welcome her home by kissing her cheeks and touching her shoulders (Malmar, Pg. 1). Through the progression of the story, Janet uses her time alone to shift her happy thoughts of Ben into doubt and reason. During the storm, Janet is able to see her life with Ben as the abusive relationship it truly is.

Karly Segrave was a fifteen year old girl when Hurricane Katrina Hit. Her mother worked at St. Tammany Parish Hospital, so when it was time to evacuate she stuffed everything she could into a backpack and went on her way. Most of the employees at the hospital brought their familys with them, so space was limited. Karly slept under her mothers cubical for three weeks. “At first it was fun,” she watched movies, played games, and had tons of people to talk to. Then days turned into weeks and the hospital begun to run low on food. She began to realize that it wasn’t all fun and games.

It had been raining intermittently for the past four days and by late Saturday afternoon, another storm was approaching the rural southern town of Wrongberight. Clemmy Sue Jarvis since birth has lived in the town and had a simple philosophy concerning weather. As long as she was six feet above ground instead of six feet below, she did not care what it was. Today as she lifts her petite frame into her rusty Ford pickup, she is preoccupied with what she hopes to accomplish this evening. Absorbed in though she pulls out of her driveway and heads south on Flat Bottom Road along the edge the Dismal Swamp towards the isolated home of her dearest friend Estelle

Mother and daughter had to face extreme weather: snow in the mountains, heat, flash floods, and washed out bridges. An encounter with a persistent tramp led Clara to shoot him in the leg. On the way Clara sprained her ankle in Pennsylvania and Helga wrote to their sponsor requesting a few days' extension of time so that Clara could heal. There were times when Helga had to think if it was a right think to take such a risk

“Mama, cover doors and windows. Everyone go to the bedroom, and put your masks on,” I directed, calmly. When I got to the bedroom, everyone was huddled around each other, with a white cloth on their face. Suddenly, the room became dark. You could hear the heavy breathing of everyone in the room, yet you couldn’t see anyone. The storm felt like it lasted for days, but only really lasted a few minutes. When I got back to the dining room table, I saw a letter on the table from the bank.

I had only one thought as the black wave was about to engulf us; run. I bolted inside screaming, making sure Winnie May close behind. Dust burned my eyes. “MA! PA!” I shouted as I threw open the wooden door of our 2 room brick house, Mommy! Papi! “What happened Mason?” Ma and my Pa had been talking about our farm. It had failed to produce anything for the

Gray, nimbostratus clouds blanketed the L.A. skyline, the promise of rain becoming more of a threat with each passing hour. However, the bleak, November day suited Tom’s pensive mood, the impending storm mirroring the tumultuous thoughts brewing within his mind. After countless cups of coffee and only three hours’ sleep, he was on edge, caught in a web of his own making. He wandered in aimless circles around the living room floor, his pinched face showing clear signs of agitation, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest. For the tenth time in less than five minutes, he glanced at the clock, unsure if he wanted his visitor to arrive or not. But despite his apprehension, he knew he needed to face his demons, and a gloomy

By Saturday morning, the rural southern town of Wrongberight has experienced four days of intermittent rainstorms and another storm is rapidly approaching. Clemmy Sue Jarvis since birth has lived here and she has a simple philosophy concerning weather. As long as the great man upstairs allows her to draw breath, she does not give a damn about the weather on any given day.

I’d become so consumed with thoughts of uncertainty, regarding Margaret’s antics, and whether I should adhere to my body’s urge to trail her, that I nearly became disconnected from the physical realm; and, if it wasn’t for the indignant roars of thunder, it’s quite possible that I would have remained, there, for hours. Promptly after coming to, however, the entirety of my body began to shiver. Each raindrop felt to be swelling with time, and I immediately wished to act on the situation, but my mind questioned how. I questioned how angry she would be with me, considering how she responded to even the minutest attempts of humor or to accompany her, and questioned whether it would truly be worth the

As such, there was a mass ravaging that would terrorize and compromise not only somewhat well structured buildings, rather, the livelihood of those said residence that would bare witness and/or be affected. Margaret at the moment of this disaster was grooming a Client, at the time they believed that opening windows would relieve “pressure” upon buildings from the tornado should they appear. The Client would try to open the window, however, the glass would shatter in the process injuring her. She and Margaret would be fine, however, it reinforces the idea of staying away from windows within such terrible weather. While that being said, the storm was devastating to Margaret as it was to others, however, nothing would seem to affect her more than the infidelity that would occur between her Husband, Wayne Lomax and the Town’s Teacher, Viola.

“Y’know, you really didn’t have to go to the trouble. You’ve lived here long enough to know this is normal for the storms here.” The old woman set her ‘coffee’ down before crossing her arms and walking to the backdoor, looking through the small window that met her eye level. As soon as she did, debris came crashing through the window and hit her in the forehead as she fell before staring in surprise.

This tragic description not only describes Bob and his wife’s situation, but the situation of the whole town. Although the structure of many houses were soundly stable, the tornado still ripped through and destroyed many of people’s personal