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It was an oppressively hot summer day, around 630 PM, and I was stranded at the side of a country road (out of gas).
I was miles away from the nearest gas station, my cell phone had no bars, and my housemates were away for the weekend. I was stuck and no one knew.
My choices were limited — walk to the gas station, which would be closed by the time I got there, or wait for another car to come down the road.
I waited.
Fortunately, the car radio still worked and I was listening to a local radio station when the Emergency Broadcast System broke-in and announced that a tornado warning had just been issued for the area.
I got out of my car, looked at the sky above me, and thought, God is angry.
That's when the rolling sound of timpani drums, the sizzle and pop of nearby air, and a howling wind screamed, "Run!"
So I did.
I ran.
I ran so fast that everything became a blur.
And even as the world grew darker (and tighter) around me, I felt that I would make it to safety.
Imagine escaping the wrath of God?
Now that would be a great story to tell your friends.
Instead, I'm telling my story to the worms in my coffin.
And they don't seem to care.
The End
Copyright 2014 Christopher V. DeRobertis. All rights reserved.
The text composition is a work of fiction. Names, places, institutions, events, incidents, characters, persons, locations, and/or organizations either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Full Creative Writing Disclaimer.