The day is heavy. A moisture-rich haze bogs down the Cottonwood leaves, and the air is hard to breathe. Sweat drips off the tip of my nose and soaks through the beltline of my jeans; electrified air pricks the skin on my arms: I pause underneath one of the Cottonwoods for a reprieve in her shade. It's only ten a.m. I look out into the street: the neighbors' house sags under the weight of the air. I prop the rake up against the tree and walk inside for a glass of water.
"Doing okay?" My stepdad asks.
"Yeah, just really humid out," I reply, "Can I stop for now? It's hot."
"Sure, but you need to get your other chores done."
"Okay," and I run upstairs to change out of my sweaty clothes.
The rest of the day was a typical Sunday: chores, reading, and maybe homework. However, something felt off. It's August. The humidity is stifling, and the air is electric. The spring air in Kansas is this way, especially when a tornado or other severe storm is coming.
Early evening came quickly. By late afternoon clouds looking like popcorn form to the east. I can see them above the trees and see them blooming higher into the sky. I am sitting on my front porch; the humidity has gone down, the clouds sucked it up. The sky starts to change as the sun begins her descent. Her sunbeams dye the clouds vibrant orange and red. Soon a violet color appears and stains them until there is no white left.
A bolt of lightning jumps from one cloud to the next, and I jump. I go back inside and head to the basement where the rest of my family gathers around the t.v.
"Mom!" I shout as I come down the stairs, "You should have seen this lighting! It like went from one cloud to the next in the sky. It was so cool!" Nobody responds and continue to watch the t.v. On it was the local news station with the weather radar on display. I sit on the steps. Each blip brought red dots and triangle paths closer to our town.
I wanted to see the sky and went back to the front porch. My brother followed me. I look around and notice a majority of our neighbors on their porches. One guy we refer to as "Bubba" sits on a couch.
Street lamps were on but didn't do much. The grey of the low-hanging clouds damped their light, and they moved swiftly. Periodically lightning could be seen, but nothing significant seemed to be happening, which appeared to contradict the weather person's report. We sit on the front porch swing and watch the sky turn dark. The air went silent. No wind moves. My brother and I glanced at one another with an understanding that what we were experiencing wasn't right.
The front door opened, and my stepdad came out.
"Seen anything yet?" He asks.
"No, just typical thunderstorm stuff," My brother replies. My stepdad walks out into the street. We follow. Lightning lit the sky, and for a millisecond we could see greenish-grey clouds course through the night.
"We should go back inside," My stepdad says.
"We'll be in soon, kinda want to watch more," I reply.
"Don't stay out for too much longer. It's getting late," and heads back inside. My brother and I return to the porch watching the clouds and lightning play tag with the dark. Seconds later, a repercussion of air comes down the street, flushing dry leaves with it. A moment of silence follows before the air sucks upwards and takes the leaves and small twigs with it. Then nothing. A second or two passes before the pattern repeats. I feel my heart batter against my chest, and my breath quickens. A shrill wail starts nearby, and I leap to my feet and scamper for the door. My brother follows. We make it to the door, and a shoving match starts. The wail continues.
My brother wins. I slam the door shut behind me. I don't remember feeling my feet against the floor or going down the basement stairs.
"About time the two of you came in," my mom says. My sisters look at us and snicker. One of them calls us "scardy cats." All of us spent the night in the basement. My siblings and I made up sleeping pads in the closet, and my mom and stepdad sleep on the couches. The power cuts out. The wind rages outside causing the house to shake. I could hear the windows rattle on the first floor from within the closet. Soon, I became exhausted by fear and fall asleep, and the house continues to tremble against the storm.