It begins with a beautiful azure sky with cotton candy clouds floating by as if pulled by the string of a child's toy. So peaceful, blue, green, but not silent... far from it - Birds are calling their mates in anticipation of along flight - a safety migration.
Scurries can be heard from the tropical brush, fish jump and dive to the safety of the depths. Horses whinny and humans flock the roads in search of water, plywood, food, batteries and things that should have been bought months ago.
Feel the first moist wispy breeze. Smell the thick salt air. It enters the lungs and sinks to the bottom, feeling like the gentle way maple syrup falls over fresh pancakes. It smells so damned good...
Soon the squalls begin. Bands of rain and wind that quickly arrive and leave, becoming longer in their uninvited stay. Becoming torrents of needles on the skin and unpredictable in direction.You squint trying to find some slice of blue,but all you find are shades of gray and green - the reflection of the bay on the belly of swollen clouds.
Soon only the bravest or the dumbest are left outside while some crack open the "Hurricane Party" supplies. The survivors of Category 5 storms cower inside for they know there is no holding back nature's angriest swipe. Concrete, steel, plywood, aluminum and glass tempered to 125 mph winds are little protection. For even rain propels horizontal at a sustained 100 mph. Strong enough to bruise skin. At least it's not plywood, branches, or avocados... could be worse.
And, as the wind increases, so does the death toll: Man killed by falling tree...woman electrocuted by downed power line, child crushed by roof truss...
Then it stops.
The stars appear. The smell is akin to fish in a blender. Death.
Look to the side and see a mountain moving toward your haven. It's going to be worse this time. No warning of wispy winds and squalls elevating to a crescendo - not this time.
It roars in. the sound of a fistful of ball bearings being fired at your outer protection by rapid fire weapons. It chews the paint off cars, buildings and anything else in its way. It pulls trees from the ground- roots and all - leaving gaping graves.
It lasts a lifetime in six hours.
Concerns range from the first hour: I hope the landscaping survives. To the second hour: I hope the vehicle survives. The third hour: I hope the house holds up. And, finally, are we going to survive?
The silence comes again. Eerily shoving out of the door and a quick scan reveals a foreign, unearthly landscape. Now what?
Now survival begins. And the sun returns bringing with it the wildlife. The breeze kisses the fear from human skin.
But, you never forget. You quit trying to warn people about what happened. Let them find out the hard way.
And the night falls, the wind picks up carrying a thunderstorm. Normal to most, but to those who remember...
They pace the floor in the dark.
© DD Corbitt
