Caught in the Storm

The following was written while I hunkered down in Barataria, LA, during Hurricane Ida. It’s raw and was scrawled down across a crinkled sheet of paper. It was an emotional purging. Hope and hopelessness bleeding across the page. If you are triggered by scenes of disaster, please, please do not read.

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Hell comes in the wake of a storm.

It twists bone and starves muscle, and there you sit, candlelight flickering in the face of fear and your soul withering to a silent drum of “not yet.”

“Worst storm in a hundred years,” they report on the news.

A knock on the door, the race of your pulse as your feet creep across the tile floor, only for midnight to slash across a shiny, silver badge. “How many people are staying in this house?” they ask, notepad in hand. “There won’t be a way out after tomorrow.”

The fear knots a little tighter.

The drum of “not yet” beats a little harder.

In the aftermath of Hope, only its carcass is left behind.

Time slows down. Wind screeches its fury. A bang. A boom. Beyond the trembling window, a cacophony of chaos splits every nerve. There are no thoughts of tomorrow and no thoughts left for today. The howling wind is a clock, freezing the hands of minutes and hours to a standstill.

Panic explodes on your tongue, and then the lights go out.

Shadows dance along a broken wall, the sharp edges of tin and roof jabbing through newly cracked glass. Shards litter the floor and rain weeps down gutted sheetrock. A gust of wind roars in your ears, growling louder and louder, and sweat dots your palms as you grip the armrest of your chair and pray for it all to end.

Demons lie dormant in the dark.

In a storm, their gnarled bodies creep into your periphery and hover in wait. Talons stroke the earth and teeth gleam like meteors in a starless sky.

Fear sits heavily on your chest.

“Not yet,” rings in your ear.

And still, the water rises.

It laps at your ankles then climb to your knees. It hugs your waist like a lover’s hands—and the chill of forever seeps into your blood.

There’s no road out,

and no road in.

For now, all you can do is wait.