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mitochondriaayaThere were several things that people knew to do when a hurricane was going to hit. Tape the windows. Fill the tub with extra water. Find your candles and lanterns. Lay out sleeping bags in the room with the least windows.
Well, most people.
Aya was from New York. Her dad had actually remembered to call her when he stopped for the night. A road had washed out, she wasn't to keep dinner waiting. Not particularly bothered by this fact, she'd put his portions in the fridge. She didn't see the news, or the weather alerts, because she decided to watch a tape. The late night television she'd found here ran towards infomercials most nights.
By the time the power went out she was fast asleep on the couch; rain had that effect on her. She was more than a little shocked when the branch came through the living room window. Luckily, her instinct was to freeze, else she'd have given herself a good knock on the head. She noticed the glass when she began to crawl off the couch, it tinkled and rained to the floor as her blankets shifted...and that was scary. Her shoes were by the door. and it was very, very quiet outside.
And dark.
She wasn't going to cry, not yet. She'd stop moving if she cried and this wasn't a good place to stay...so she just clutched her moogle to her chest and carefully slipped over the couch arm instead of stepping down to the floor. She bumped her knees on the recliner arm, but it got her away from the glass! From the recliner she felt her way to the door and her shoes.
Where was she suppose to sleep now with all that glass? She could go back across the living room now, but...but...
...instead she dragged on her raincoat one arm at a time so she didn't lose her moogle. There was just enough room to zip it most of the way up over her plush toy. Sure, they looked like a monster with two heads (one in the middle of the chest!) but it would keep them dry? She didn't want to leave the moogle at home. It wasn't safe.
She'd learned, quickly, that the best adult to ask favors of was Braig's mom. So she carefully locked her door behind her and headed down the street. It was dark outside too! But she could walk along the sidewalk and count the driveway dips until she was pretty sure she was at Braig's. If she was wrong she'd apologize!
So, that was why there was a small fist banging on Braig's door at four in the morning during the eye of the storm.
Well, most people.
Aya was from New York. Her dad had actually remembered to call her when he stopped for the night. A road had washed out, she wasn't to keep dinner waiting. Not particularly bothered by this fact, she'd put his portions in the fridge. She didn't see the news, or the weather alerts, because she decided to watch a tape. The late night television she'd found here ran towards infomercials most nights.
By the time the power went out she was fast asleep on the couch; rain had that effect on her. She was more than a little shocked when the branch came through the living room window. Luckily, her instinct was to freeze, else she'd have given herself a good knock on the head. She noticed the glass when she began to crawl off the couch, it tinkled and rained to the floor as her blankets shifted...and that was scary. Her shoes were by the door. and it was very, very quiet outside.
And dark.
She wasn't going to cry, not yet. She'd stop moving if she cried and this wasn't a good place to stay...so she just clutched her moogle to her chest and carefully slipped over the couch arm instead of stepping down to the floor. She bumped her knees on the recliner arm, but it got her away from the glass! From the recliner she felt her way to the door and her shoes.
Where was she suppose to sleep now with all that glass? She could go back across the living room now, but...but...
...instead she dragged on her raincoat one arm at a time so she didn't lose her moogle. There was just enough room to zip it most of the way up over her plush toy. Sure, they looked like a monster with two heads (one in the middle of the chest!) but it would keep them dry? She didn't want to leave the moogle at home. It wasn't safe.
She'd learned, quickly, that the best adult to ask favors of was Braig's mom. So she carefully locked her door behind her and headed down the street. It was dark outside too! But she could walk along the sidewalk and count the driveway dips until she was pretty sure she was at Braig's. If she was wrong she'd apologize!
So, that was why there was a small fist banging on Braig's door at four in the morning during the eye of the storm.
