High Value

A giant twister, God’s weed-whacker, touched down three miles north of the small country farm. its surreal presence against a suddenly blackened sky stood in seemingly direct conflict with the sun shining down on the bright white farmhouse.

Marcie was out hanging clothes when the approaching funnel cloud caught her attention. A veteran of tornado alley, she knew that she only had minutes before it would be upon her. Frank was at a farm auction down south, the kids had moved out years ago to start families of their own. There was just her, which simplified things considerably.

Half way into the root cellar, she paused as if forgetting something. She turned quickly and ran back into the house. She could not let this storm take her family albums from her, albums filled with generations of memories, priceless memories captured in precious moments and then glued in place with care and love.

They weren’t in the closet or under the bed. That only left the attic. As she climbed up the ladder, the fringe winds began to pelt the house with small debris. She knew time was running out as she quickly rummaged through one box after another. Marcie was just about to give up when she saw the albums poking out from beneath her old wedding dress.

As she flew down the ladder from the attic, the house came to life, swirling around her like something out of a nightmare.

The Search and Rescue team arrived at the flattened house about an hour after the storm passed. The destruction was nearly complete. A call from beneath the rubble had everyone digging for hope where moments earlier, none had existed. Eighty-one year old Marcie sat in the remains of the fireplace, with two albums clutched tightly in her arms.

Word count 300


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