The skies clear out. Thin rays of sunlight beam through the cracks of the cellar door. Dorothy awakens, sleepy-eyed, to the sound of birds chirping and her furry best friend pouncing on her.
Emerging from her dreary hide out, she squints at the bright morning sun and gazes appreciatively at lovely bulbous white clouds hovering below it. Everything and everyone was gone.
They were all blown away by the storm, all washed away by the rain.
She strolls down the yellow brick road with her pup, surrounded by a sunshine-illuminated field. The sweet scent of morning dew fills her nostrils. She takes no notice of the overwhelming debris that fills the land. As Dorothy passes by her now fallen home, her joyful pace slows down to a solemn walk. Her hands tighten to a fist. She fixes her eyes on an imaginary spot in the distance and continues walking straight ahead of her. She trudges through the wreckage that litters her path, occasionally tripping and kicking broken furniture and wood. But she continues treading through stubbornly. Soon enough, she trips over something heavy. Dorothy frustratingly picks herself up, dusts herself off and looks behind. Her eyes widen in horror…a leg.
Dorothy flinches away in disgust and horror. A chill runs down her spine. Seconds later, her entire body bristles as if called to attention.
Whose is it?
She slowly turns her head back to get a better look, hands half-covering her eyes for the final reveal.
Did I do that?
She hesitated.
Does it matter?
25
The sirens scream out loud. A tornado approaches. Dorothy hides in the furthest corner of the cellar and muffles her ears with the palms of her sweating hands. Someone bangs on the doors. She shut her eyes, forcefully breathing in and out. The banging on the door persisted; it became louder and faster. She rocks back and forth, humming an eerie tune. The banging slows down in a hopeless beat and then it completely disappears. Dorothy grins in victory.
The skies clear out. Thin rays of sunlight beam through the cracks of the cellar door. Dorothy awakens, sleepy-eyed, to the sound of birds chirping and her furry best friend pouncing on her.
Emerging from her dreary hide out, she squints at the bright morning sun and gazes appreciatively at lovely bulbous white clouds hovering below it. Everything and everyone was gone. They were all blown away by the storm, all washed away by the rain.
She strolls down the yellow brick road with her pup, surrounded by a sunshine-illuminated field. The sweet scent of morning dew fills her nostrils. She takes no notice of the overwhelming debris that fills the land. As Dorothy passes by her now fallen home, her joyful pace slows down to a solemn walk. Her hands tighten to a fist. She fixes her eyes on an imaginary spot in the distance and continues walking straight ahead of her. She trudges through the wreckage that litters her path, occasionally tripping and kicking broken furniture and wood. But she continues treading through stubbornly. Soon enough, she trips over something heavy. Dorothy frustratingly picks herself up, dusts herself off and looks behind. Her eyes widen in horror…a leg.
Dorothy flinches away in disgust and horror. A chill runs down her spine.
Whose is it?
Does it matter?
She slowly turns her head back to get a better
Did I do that?
She hesitated.
final reveal.
look, hands half-covering her eyes for the
Seconds later, her entire body bristles as if called to attention.