Cry, Linda This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   This one was hers. She had just turned 25 and the hurricane was named Linda, her name. She knew this would be the one that would bring her back. Andrew had rumbled out of the sky, throwing at the small people sorrow, hopelessness and ultimately, death. She remembered what Andrew had taken from her. Not heeding the warnings in time, she had run to the car and her small child was ripped out of her hands by savage Andrew, thrown about the wind, and then dropped to the ground. They had never found the poor body of three-year-old Julie. But now Linda had celebrated a birthday, the hurricane would come, and bring back Julie. Yes, the storm owed her something on her birthday, a small gift: her small child. As she walked out of her apartment to stare at the sky, Linda smiled thinking of her precious Julie, who would be coming home soon.

"Evacuate the area. The hurricane is coming," the sirens blared. A thousand fender benders ensued as Linda stepped out of her car. The wind was deafening and rain poured from the sky as if the oceans had leaked. It stung Linda's face, but she paid it no mind. Nothing was going to keep Linda from her baby. Jumping over a fence and climbing a small hill, she saw the great black death in full view. Her determined eyes stared at the storm; the enemies were locked, and only one would come away from the battle. Her feelings swelled in her chest, almost bursting forth, but then subsided. Remembering those last moments, she looked at her feet, oblivious to the world around her. The wind whipped her auburn hair around her face and her head rose, revealing the eyes. The eyes that had seen her only daughter fly to her death, the very eyes that could kill a man with her stare. Rage built in her as the hurricane wailed, and Linda put forth her voice in a scream. A scream with years of anger, fear and insanity thrown into a jumble. Her eyes closed as the wind took her and carried her off.

She woke to the wail of a child. Eyes fluttering open, she found herself on a pile of glass and debris. She tried to lift her head, and pain shot up through the nerves in her neck. Her eyes wandered about the scene trying to find the child who was crying. The pain left her as she dusted the glass off her torso and rose to her normal proud height. The storm had lost and she smiled at the thought. The baby, her mind screamed at her, and she began digging like a madman to find the child. Debris flew about her as she checked one pile, then the next and onto another, but she couldn't find the child. The crying stopped and Linda stopped looking for a moment.

"No. No. Don't stop crying, little one. Cry, cry, you must cry!" Lifting another large board, she found the little child in a broken crib. On the pair of ripped pajamas was embroidered the name Beth. Linda cradled the small child and soothed her until she stopped crying. Linda murmured, "It will be all right, Julie, everything will be fine. Mommy's here." A single tear flowed down Linda's smiling cheeks.


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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