The Storm
By B. Gallatin
Published: October 16, 2007
Updated: January 6, 2010

 

On the wind was a torrent of rain in darkness among the bending trees. Lightning interspersed with thunder had awakened all throughout the house. The digital clock flashed, registering the moment the power ceased 2:46 AM…2:46 AM...2:46 AM.........

"Daddy, Daddy," Allison cried out.

With resignation born of love and duty, I rise to quell her fear. Calling out, I tell her, “Daddy is coming." I nudge the lump by my side in bed. "Honey, please get up and check on the boys. Make sure they're OK."

She moans, "Umm hum...."

I grope along the walls to the kitchen. I grab and light a candle and make my way to Allison's room upstairs. She is standing in the crib, grasping the rails. Her little, round, tear-stained face is flushed red. She reaches for me with open arms, her hands clasping open and shut as if to make me move faster. I set the candle down, pick her up and she softly whimpers, "heh-deh-deh” while squeezing my neck. I tell her, "Daddy loves you, everything is going to be OK" as I swing her to and fro and kiss her salty cheek. I sit in the rocking chair in her room, staring out the window at the darkness broken by flashes of lightning.

Within a few moments I feel her go limp in my arms. The storm subsides. All is well and little Allison is asleep once more. I place her gently into her crib, kiss her forehead and head for the boys room. They are still fast asleep. I go back to the bedroom and the wife has not moved. I think, 'C'est la vie...'

 

The revised above story is a product of Comrade Becca's writing skills.