They called it the storm of the century and begged us all to stay inside from 3pm onwards to avoid the worst of it. Most people listened and made their excuses to stay later at work or pretend to be too sick to go anywhere. We'd all seen the weather report, seen the swirling vortex of red slowly make its way towards us.
We hadn't seen what it left in its wake. We hadn't heard from the survivors - we still don't know if there are survivors from the rest of the country. All we know for sure is that it wasn't a storm, at least not the weather kind.
Storms don't leave half chewed-up bodies on rooftops or tear cars in half or scream and beg for us to open our doors. The latter can't have been someone trying to get out of the storm, the human screaming came and went pretty quickly.
The council refuses to call it anything other than a storm.
We hadn't seen what it left in its wake. We hadn't heard from the survivors - we still don't know if there are survivors from the rest of the country. All we know for sure is that it wasn't a storm, at least not the weather kind.
Storms don't leave half chewed-up bodies on rooftops or tear cars in half or scream and beg for us to open our doors. The latter can't have been someone trying to get out of the storm, the human screaming came and went pretty quickly.
The council refuses to call it anything other than a storm.
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