I stood at the edge of the yard and stared at the decimation before me. Trees, limbs, debris… tossed about like toys of an ungrateful child. The building before me sat stoically, a mocking image of what it used to be. I could almost feel the stare of the glassy windows, shattered remnants barely blocking the destruction that I knew must lay beyond. The screen door swung on one hinge, each creak a somber song, each slap against the walls echoing with a haunting cry. The gaping hole in the roof with its jagged teeth sharp, the meat of the home hanging from the jowls, stood open in laughter on the verge of hysterics. The walls seemed to weep, bleeding for the loss of their former beauty. Tears slipped down the scarred home as it sat juxtaposed against the world it no longer belonged. The breeze fluttered through the home as if to give comfort to a child in pain, but the house screamed as though each caress were a whip against raw and bleeding flesh. Through it all, the desolation, the heartache, all I could feel was the fierce pride radiating from the tattered structure. The words filled my heart: Here I am, still standing against the storm.
This post was in response to a prompt from TipsyLit. It is dedicated to all those whose homes and lives were destroyed in the tornadoes on April 27th. To learn more about the relief efforts, visit: http://www.faulknerrelief.com/