Dark waters, strong winds

Dear reader,

A turmoil surrounds us, all around me I hear deafening cries from the children who had been separated from their missing parents, and the crackled voice from the frantic scout was calling us to gather composure and head to the containment building that was located 50 meters ahead. The dark, sediment loaded water reached up to my knees as I made my way to where my parents were standing. I told them what the scout had requested us to do, they nodded absentmindedly, looking at our destroyed house. What was once whitewashed wall had become chunks of tattered and dirty blocks. My mother was crying, my father had an arm around her shoulder. Our years of hard work had been washed away in only minutes. I look around me, everything was destruction and water, abundance of water. The air was unusually calm and moist, a very unsettling feeling crept to my heart. 

That day I will never forget, the sky appeared to have the promise of a fair weather. In our small village in the outskirts of town, we heard the news of a hurricane that would strike our zone. Members of the Scouts and Military were sent to our village to build a safe zone if something was to happen. We did not expect a hurricane, we had never experienced a hurricane until today.Usually, the hurricanes always die out when it hit land, but that was not the case today. The strong winds had destroyed many of our buildings and pulled out many strong trees. The water was slowing my walk, more than once I tripped with something underneath the dark water, those multiple "something" were soft and tender. I did not wish to know what was it, but it was clear: drowned, lifeless bodies. I blinked my tears away, and swallowed the stiff lump that had formed in my throat.

Death was the only one celebrating our disasters and calamities. While we walked toward the camp, I kept my eyes forward. A soldier had told us they could not mind the dead right now, they had a duty to the ones alive. We were lost lambs being herded to safety by our shepherd-a young soldier.  I tried to find friends, relatives, and acquaintances, all in vain. I look to the sky, it was covered with low, thick clouds, the wind was warm, I suddenly felt like a forsaken creature by the Grace of our Lord. I reached subconsciously to the rosary underneath my sweater. Something far worse was about to happen.

We make it inside the camp, where we were located to a specific spot, squeezed between a family with billowing children, and a middle aged couple. I sit here writing right now, what might be my last letter. The hurricane was only a tropical storm when it was formed, but once it entered our warm waters it grew on intensity to a category four. When the hurricane strike land it decreased to a lower category, but it was still strong, strong enough to wipe our village to debris. Enough of geography. Nature was playing with us, as my science teacher once said, "Nature is wise, she knows when she has to cleanse itself. To restore to its rightful balance." Cleanse from what?

I now finish my letter, wishing I would be able to read it again. Stop the negativism. This short period of calmness only came from the hurricane's eye. We will soon be hit by the hurricane's eye wall, again. The only thing left to do is pray, pray for the grace of the Creator to fall upon us.


~~ Vidia Acosta ~~

The End

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