will of x e r x e s ;
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Krystal made me post it. :3 I wrote this for school. Tell me what you guys think. 
The moment before the lightning struck, my husband and I raced home in our car. We were out on our weekly grocery shopping while Nana stayed home with the kids. Dark, thick clouds ganged up in the sky. Starting with a few long drops, the rain progressed into a heavy, long-lasting wall of water. Bags were hastily thrown into the trunk and my husband and I jumped into the car, our clothes soaked to the brim.
Flooring the gas pedal, the car sped off, the roaring wheels splashing passersby. The car raced recklessly and the driver had a frantic look in eyes. Though it was unspoken, we both knew the reason for it: our kids are deathly terrified of thunderstorms, and we are the only ones that can calm them down.Lightning illuminated the gray sky, shading the clouds with an orange tint. One. Thunder boomed. The storm was about a mile away. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass, my breath fogging up the window. I pleaded for the storm’s path to take a new route, one far away from our house.
97 Elm Street came into view and we swiftly pulled into the driveway. I could see me kids peering out the living room window, shaking with fright with Nana holding them tightly. Thunder boomed and they shrieked and closed their eyes in terror. As soon as the car came to a halt, I threw the door open and jumped out, not bothering with slamming it shut or taking my purse. My kids ran out onto the porch with Nana standing in the doorway. Crouching down, they leapt into my arms, not caring that I was soaking wet. Hugs and kisses and my warmth were all it took to calm them down a bit. The rain pattered heavily onto the roof of the porch, echoing monotonous rain drops.
My husband received our shopping bags and closed the trunk. He began to walk toward the house. Lightning flashed above our heads, bringing light to the sky. My kids screamed and buried their faces in my chest. My husband seemed to notice that my door was still open and ran back to the car to retrieve my purse on the floor in the middle of the car and shut the door. Unfortunately, what he didn’t seem to notice was that the tree in our yard was flat out hit with the lightning and began its fast descent toward the car with him still inside.
“DADDY!”
But it was too late.
~.~.~
Beep. Beep. Beep. The machine monitoring my husband’s heart rate beeped in the background. He was lying unconscious on the bed in a condition I had never seen anyone before. Nana, the kids, and I stood by the bed, silent except for the constant sniffling of my kids. The Emergency Room Staff told us we had to leave and sit in the waiting area. Before being escorted out, my two kids approached their father, tears streaming down their faces, staining their cheeks.
“Daddy,” my daughter choked through her tears, “Y-you’re going to wake up right? And then we’ll go s-s-splash in the puddles…” She trembled. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.
“Dad, we’ll wait here until you wake up,” my son sullenly said. Then they both reached over and embraced him and gave him a kiss. I turned away from the scene for at this point, tears were uncontrollably falling.
The moment before we heard any news, an hour passed while we waited in the waiting room. I sat there, deep in guilt. If I hadn’t left my purse in there, he wouldn’t be injured right now. I buried my head in my hands and sobbed. Doors opened and I looked up to see the doctor standing there. I shot up out of my seat. “Doctor, is he okay? Will he be fine?” He walked right past be, ignoring me completely. Approaching my kids, he crouched down to look eye to eye with them.
“Kids,” he began, “I have some great news. You saved your father’s life.”
The moment before the lightning struck, I had never really believed in miracles, but his words proved me wrong.
The moment before the lightning struck, my husband and I raced home in our car. We were out on our weekly grocery shopping while Nana stayed home with the kids. Dark, thick clouds ganged up in the sky. Starting with a few long drops, the rain progressed into a heavy, long-lasting wall of water. Bags were hastily thrown into the trunk and my husband and I jumped into the car, our clothes soaked to the brim.
Flooring the gas pedal, the car sped off, the roaring wheels splashing passersby. The car raced recklessly and the driver had a frantic look in eyes. Though it was unspoken, we both knew the reason for it: our kids are deathly terrified of thunderstorms, and we are the only ones that can calm them down.Lightning illuminated the gray sky, shading the clouds with an orange tint. One. Thunder boomed. The storm was about a mile away. I pressed my forehead to the cold glass, my breath fogging up the window. I pleaded for the storm’s path to take a new route, one far away from our house.
97 Elm Street came into view and we swiftly pulled into the driveway. I could see me kids peering out the living room window, shaking with fright with Nana holding them tightly. Thunder boomed and they shrieked and closed their eyes in terror. As soon as the car came to a halt, I threw the door open and jumped out, not bothering with slamming it shut or taking my purse. My kids ran out onto the porch with Nana standing in the doorway. Crouching down, they leapt into my arms, not caring that I was soaking wet. Hugs and kisses and my warmth were all it took to calm them down a bit. The rain pattered heavily onto the roof of the porch, echoing monotonous rain drops.
My husband received our shopping bags and closed the trunk. He began to walk toward the house. Lightning flashed above our heads, bringing light to the sky. My kids screamed and buried their faces in my chest. My husband seemed to notice that my door was still open and ran back to the car to retrieve my purse on the floor in the middle of the car and shut the door. Unfortunately, what he didn’t seem to notice was that the tree in our yard was flat out hit with the lightning and began its fast descent toward the car with him still inside.
“DADDY!”
But it was too late.
~.~.~
Beep. Beep. Beep. The machine monitoring my husband’s heart rate beeped in the background. He was lying unconscious on the bed in a condition I had never seen anyone before. Nana, the kids, and I stood by the bed, silent except for the constant sniffling of my kids. The Emergency Room Staff told us we had to leave and sit in the waiting area. Before being escorted out, my two kids approached their father, tears streaming down their faces, staining their cheeks.
“Daddy,” my daughter choked through her tears, “Y-you’re going to wake up right? And then we’ll go s-s-splash in the puddles…” She trembled. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.
“Dad, we’ll wait here until you wake up,” my son sullenly said. Then they both reached over and embraced him and gave him a kiss. I turned away from the scene for at this point, tears were uncontrollably falling.
The moment before we heard any news, an hour passed while we waited in the waiting room. I sat there, deep in guilt. If I hadn’t left my purse in there, he wouldn’t be injured right now. I buried my head in my hands and sobbed. Doors opened and I looked up to see the doctor standing there. I shot up out of my seat. “Doctor, is he okay? Will he be fine?” He walked right past be, ignoring me completely. Approaching my kids, he crouched down to look eye to eye with them.
“Kids,” he began, “I have some great news. You saved your father’s life.”
The moment before the lightning struck, I had never really believed in miracles, but his words proved me wrong.
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