October 21, 2012
By Anonymous

“Mooooom!” yelled Samantha, “I found what kind of phone I want!”
Mrs. Hopwell let out a long breath. “What do you mean new phone? You got the brand new one last month and it’s still good.”.”
“Yeah but this one’s white. How cool is that?” she returned.
“What? Sam come down here I can barely understand a word you’re saying.”!” Mrs. Hopwell replied. She recently became hard of hearing due to her age.
Sam sprinted down the stairs with excitement. “Look,, look,, look.”!”
Mrs. Hopwell scanned the article page up and down a few times before putting on her glasses. “I don’t see what you like so much about this phone. It’s the same phone except it’s white,” she reasoned, “we aren’t getting you a new phone.”
“But please?”
“No and if you keep asking you’re going to lose the one you have right now.”
“Ugh mom you never get me anything!” Sam said as she stomped away from her mom up to her room with everything she could ever want. Who said money can’t buy happiness? “If mom won’t buy it for me, daddy will,” she muttered to herself. Her dad had always been a push over. Anytime she wanted the latest technology her mom wouldn’t give her, he would go out and buy it the next day to surprise his favorite girl.
Meanwhile downstairs Mr. Hopwell had just gotten home. “Had a tough case today,” he said as he usually does, “but as usual, I came through and it should be over with tomorrow,” he said as he strutted around the kitchen.
“That’s why you’re the best around,” Mrs. Hopwell replies, “meanwhile have you seen those clouds outside?”
“Yeah, pretty nasty, I’m sure it’ll just blow over,” Mr. Hopwell said, “but maybe we should put on the news just in case.”
Mrs. Hopwell stood up and made her way to the living room with their 90 inch monster of a television was. She turned it on and instantly football highlights came on.
“Good for nothing Bengals. Gonna be another great season I see,” Mr. Hopwell said sarcastically.
Mrs. Hopwell flipped through the channels until she found a news channel. “Looks more serious than just a big storm,” she said as she bit her nails, “Do you think we need to go to the cellar?”
“Nah,” her husband replied as he pulled out some leftover pizza, “It’ll be gone in an hour.”
After becoming bored of the infinite fun that is her room, Sam went down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Hey Sam, want some dinner?” her mother asks.
“I’m not talking to you.” She snapped as she walks out into her garage and onto the driveway. Laying on her back, she watched the clouds moving, one of her favorite things to do during storms, except there was no rain.
After about fifteen minutes she sat up. “Where’s that noise coming from?” she muttered to herself. Loud, noisy, irritating sirens. Not police sirens, tornado sirens. She sat up and checked her phone. “September 3rd,” she whispered to herself “Aren’t they supposed to test those at noon?” She shrugged her shoulders and went back to laying on the driveway.
Everyone knew that the sirens were tested at 12:00 on the dot the first Monday of every month. It was Monday. 6:47 PM.
“Oh god now what?” Sam said, “trains? There aren’t any trains around here.” She said as she walked to the end of her driveway and looked up in awe.
Staring her in the face was a massive funnel cloud. A tornado. It looked close, but in reality about half a mile away. That’s when she felt a tug on her arm and she turned to see her mother’s panicked face. “Come on Sam!” They both start running into the house and down stairs into their cellar where Mr. Hopwell was waiting for them.
Once everyone was inside he closes and locks the big, metal, cellar door as the loud cracks made their teeth shake.
“No,” he muttered under his breath, “the foundation.”
Just then, the cracks became louder and louder until it became deafening and the tornado was as loud as could be.
One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. It’s hard to tell how long it’s been when you’re 30 feet underground curled up in a ball crying, not knowing what’s happening.
Finally, Mr. Hopwell rises fast as molasses and turns the big metal wheel on the door. Bright, blinding light cascades down the stairs and into the damp, bleak cellar. The only thing visible is stairs, leading to the outside. As a whole, the Hopwell family drudges up the stairs to see what awaited them at the top. Again, Sam starts crying. “All our stuff,” she whimpered “all my stuff… it’s gone. Everything I could have ever wanted. Gone.”

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