the hurricane by Tallulah

…When did it arrive?’ I said as turned my head towards my dog, kiwi, and staired at her as she moved backwards towards the corner whimping.

My Mum didn’t reply. Instead she listened to the rain  and then called out ‘get in the basement!’. With my breath running out I dashed downstairs. My mum phone at six percent and my scared rating at one-hundered we listened in terror, as slow as a snail I shut the door and aproch the corners.

But I couldn’t see my mum. I saw her but it was too late I whispered ‘oh no’.