The Great Storm


Photo by Lura Helms from Madison Wood’s site

The horned skull stared blankly from within the crook of a tangled oak.
“On the night of the Great Storm, livestock was swept up and hurled all over these woods,” my father said. “Cars…..trucks……”
We passed skeletons of twisted iron, and teenagers wrestling a blackened elm for the radiator grill lodged at its heart.
Kneeling down, his eyes met mine. “You got angry, son.  I understand.”
I stared back.
“I was angry too – when your mother died… ” He stumbled over the words. “But all this …“
“It won’t happen again, Father.”
He suppressed a shudder as I spun the Vortex quietly between my palms.
“Good lad.”


All constructive criticism gratefully received.

4 thoughts on “The Great Storm

  1. Lovely language – ‘teenagers wrestling a blackened elm’. Presumably it’s part of a longer story because there are a lot of unanswered questions – did the boy kill his mother? By accident? What’s the vortex?

    • Thanks Claire, I can see why you’d ask those questions, I think I have been too vague here. I intended the mother’s death to be read as the catalyst for the boy causing the storm, but that isn’t completely clear from the dialogue. I think it was in an earlier version, but I cut and cut to get it to under 100 words. I can see what I would change and add, so your comment is really helpful.

  2. Sounds as though this boy might have quite some outlets at his disposal when it comes to expressing his grief. Or have I got it wrong? Nice one, liked the image of boys wrestling to salvage a radiator grill.

    • Thank you Sandra, I posted so late, I really appreciate you stopping by. You got the meaning I intended, though I think it could have been clearer, it can be read another way, as Claire has pointed out.

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