the storm...

The sky was a grayish yellow tint before the deadly storm struck my uncle's shed and took the life of his six year old boy. I noticed the clouds began to turn dark and the sky became blacker in a matter of minutes. I began to hear the loud and obnoxious rolling of thunder as the clouds collided with eachother. I shivered a the wind ripped through my spine and the heavy raindrops slapped against my bare shouders as I ran through the leafy trail leading to my uncle's large wooden shed. The earth beneath my feet shook and rumbled like an earthquake as a large streak of lighting smacked a gargantuan tree nearby. The enormous sequoia snapped like a twig at it's base and came tumbling down into another tree.

I finally made it to my Uncle Rick's beaten shed and to my surpise I saw him sitting in a corner, alive and well. But as I observed him, he had a very obvious look of pain, sorrow, and distraught. As I took a glimpse of the ruins that remained of the shed my heart suddenly dropped... In the rubble that the storm had left for my uncle there was a motionless body. As I came back to my senses, I slowly walked over to where the body layed, removed the debris of the storm and took a look at the body. I let out a shriek of suprise and horror as I observed it's face. From what I could tell, it was my uncle's youngest son, Nathaniel Einstein Bobby Jones. I picked up the small child's body and I could feel the limpness of his carcass. It felt as if every single bone in his body had been crushed and he felt as flate as a pancake. His skin was as cold as limestone, his face as pale as chalk. His whole face was scarred up with large cuts and bruises and his small mouth was agape. As I observed the child I culd see that his two front teeth had been broken by the impact of the wooden planks that crushed him.

As I stood in the middle of the what remained of the shed I could the weeps and cries of my uncle as he mourned over his child's death. He sounded like a woman who just found out that she had a miscarriage. He cried out, "This is all my damn fault! If only I had used better materials to build my house with, this woould've never happened." Glancing at him for a second, I replied, "Don't say that. It's not your fault at all. Maybe it was just his time to go."