THE STORM

Danielle's world shattered as she woke to devastation. Her house, car and family – gone. Silence replaced the familiar sounds of morning.

She sat up, blood streaming from her head, and found a dirty cloth to stem the flow. The metallic scent filled her nostrils. Her screams echoed through the desolate landscape, "Tony! Marcus!"

Six months pregnant, Danielle stumbled through the wreckage, her head pounding. Each step reverberated through her swollen feet. She clutched her stomach, carrying her unborn daughter, amidst the ruins.

A hurricane had ravaged their city, catching them off guard. The sun rose over destruction: uprooted houses, lifeless bodies and flooded roads. Debris scattered everywhere, like confetti after a cruel celebration.

Barefoot and relentless, Danielle pressed on, yelling for her family. Her voice hoarse, her throat dry.

An older woman intercepted her, offering water and shelter in a nearby church. "Here, drink this. Are you okay?" The woman's warm voice soothed Danielle's frayed nerves.

Inside, the community rallied around Danielle, tending her wounds and offering food. Steamy soup and warm bread filled her senses. They added Tony, her son,and Marcus, her husband, to the prayer list.

Despite their kindness, Danielle's focus remained fixed on her family. "I need shoes. I must find Tony and Marcus." Desperation edged her voice.

Concerned faces surrounded her. "Rest first. Your baby's heart rate is slow, and your blood pressure is high."

Danielle reluctantly surrendered, exhaustion claiming her. Soft blankets enveloped her.

Hours passed, and she awoke to medical attention. Beeping machines and antiseptic scents filled the air. A midwife explained, "You started contracting. We've stabilized the preterm labor."

Danielle's gaze fell, disappointment washing over her. Tears trickled down her cheeks.

---

---

Tony, eight years old, sat beside his father, Marcus, under a towering tree's shade. Tears streamed down his pale face as he clutched Marcus's hand, feeling his warmth slipping away.

Marcus stirred, his eyes flickering open, filled with pain. "Tony...clears dry throat...I need you to be a big boy...get help." Each word was laced with urgency.

Tony's sobs intensified, his small body shaking. "I can't move, Daddy!" Fear gripped his voice.

Marcus's voice turned stern, laced with desperation. "We can't stay here...I won't make it...Go clear of the trees...scream for help!" His breaths grew shallow.

Tony trembled, "I'm scared!" His whisper barely audible.

Marcus's voice weakened, "It's okay, son...I love you." His eyes closed, his body limp, as if surrendering to the pain.

Tony stood, legs wobbling. "I love you, Daddy!" His voice cracked.

Determined, Tony ran through the dense woods, tears blurring his vision. Leaves crunched beneath his feet. Branches snapped, echoing his desperation.

Suddenly, he saw figures in the distance – strangers, but potential rescuers.

Tony's voice cracked as he yelled, "Help!" His cries echoed through the forest, bouncing off trees.

Strangers rushed toward him, concern etched on their faces.

"Hey, kiddo! What's going on?" one asked.

Tony pointed, "My daddy...under a tree!" Choking back tears.

Rescuers sprinted behind Tony where he led them to Marcus.

Tony's heart pounded, hoping for a miracle.

Tony yelled, "Daddy, I got help!" His voice pierced the air, echoing through the forest.

Marcus's eyes slowly opened, strengthened by Tony's words. Weak sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating Marcus's pale face.

Rescuers approached, their heavy boots crunching on debris. Assessing the situation, they exchanged concerned glances.

"One of our guys is a former construction worker," one said. "We've got equipment to lift the tree, but medical help is scarce here." His voice was laced with empathy.

Marcus gathered his strength, wincing in pain. "I'm a firefighter and EMT. Broken ribs, possible femur fracture...I'll survive. Just lift the tree." Determination flared in his eyes.

The leader nodded. "We'll return soon. Want someone to stay with your son?"

Marcus pleaded, "Yes! Yes! Thank you." His voice cracked.

Tony clung to Marcus's hand, tears streaming down his face.

"Food...water for my son?" Marcus begged, his dry lips cracking.

A rescuer handed Tony an energy bar and a canteen. "Here, buddy."

Tony unwrapped the bar, the sweet aroma filling his nostrils. He took a bite, savoring the taste.

The cool water soothed his parched throat and Tony poured water in Marcus's mouth.

As the rescuers departed, Marcus locked eyes with Tony.

"I'll find Mommy," he promised, his voice filled with resolve.

Tony's tears slowed, replaced by a glimmer of hope.

The waiting rescuer knelt beside Tony. "Hey, kiddo, we'll get your dad out." His gentle tone calmed Tony.

Time crawled, each minute feeling like an eternity.

Finally, the rescuers returned with equipment, its metal edges glinting in the sunlight.

With careful precision, they lifted the tree, its weight releasing from Marcus's trapped body and crushed leg.

Marcus groaned, relief washing over him, mixed with pain.

"Tony, help me sit up," Marcus said, gritting his teeth.

Tony assisted, his small hands supporting his father.

Marcus assessed his injuries, his face twisted in pain.

"Crushed but I'm alive," he muttered.

"Sir, we have a truck," the rescuer said. "We can take you to—"

Marcus interrupted, "My pregnant wife...I must find her." Determination fueled his resolve.

---

--

The rescuers carefully lifted Marcus and Tony into their rugged truck, its metal creaking under their weight. Marcus grimaced, pain shooting through his body like searing flames.

"We can't reach another town," one explained, his voice laced with empathy. "Downed power lines and flooding. Everyone's gathering at Simpson's Market until help arrives."

Marcus's urgency grew, his heart racing. "My pregnant wife...I must find her."

The men reassured him, "We've got cots, hot food, and medical supplies. But unfortunately, no pregnant women are there. You'll have to wait for real help."

Marcus nodded gratitude, relief washing over him. "Thanks for everything."

At Simpson's Market, warmth and kindness enveloped them like a gentle hug. Volunteers rushed to assist, offering steaming food, soft blankets and medical aid.

A nurse, Jane, tended to Marcus's wounds, administering pain medication with gentle hands. "You'll be comfortable until help arrives," she soothed, her voice calming.

Tony clung to Marcus, overwhelmed by the chaos of voices.

Marcus hugged him tight, his arms wrapped securely. "We'll find Mommy soon."

As night fell, Simpson's Market transformed into a refuge. Strangers became family, bonding over shared struggles. The scent of hot soup and baked bread filled the air.

Marcus's determination never changed, fueled by love. He would find Danielle.

---

---

Danielle's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the gentle smile of Nurse Jane. "You're doing great, Danielle. The medication worked. No dilation, and baby's heart rate is normal."

Relief washed over Danielle, but anxiety lingered.

Jane handed her a warm bowl of soup. "Eat, dear. You need strength."

Danielle took a spoonful, but emotions overwhelmed her. Tears burst forth like a storm.

"What if...what if I never see Tony or Marcus again?" Her voice cracked.

Sobs shook her body.

"We should have flown to my parents' house...waited out the storm. But we hunkered down, thinking it wouldn't be serious." Guilt consumed her.

"I'll never forgive myself," Danielle wailed, tears streaming down her face.

Nurse Jane enveloped Danielle in a comforting hug. "Don't blame yourself. You made the best decision with the information you had."

Danielle's cries slowly subsided, replaced by determination.

"I need to find my family," Danielle said, resolving to strengthen her voice.

--

--

Two days passed, Danielle's prayers unrelenting, her heart aching for reunion. Hydrated and energized, she awaited the moment to search, her mind filled with visions of Marcus and Tony

Marcus concealed his worsening condition, driven to reunite Tony with Danielle, his love propelling him forward.

A helper rushed in, "Clearing to the next town! Ready?" Excitement tinged his voice.

Marcus smiled weakly, "Yes," his eyes sparkling with hope.

The men carefully drove to the next town, following signs to an untouched church.

Inside, warm light enveloped them. Women asked names for the prayer list. A voice echoed, "Marcus and Tony Anderson are here for Danielle!"

Danielle slept upstairs, peaceful.

The lady guided Tony and Marcus to wait, her gentle tone soothing.

Marcus grew impatient, "Where is she?" His voice trembled.

The lady gently intervened, "Wait, dear," her hands calming.

Tony's eyes widened, "Mommy's here?" His voice quivered.

Marcus reassured, "Yes, just a few more minutes," his smile faint.

Thirty minutes passed. Marcus weakened, coughing thick red blood, his chest heaving.

Tony screamed for help, panic-stricken.

Danielle awakened by her son's cry, rushing downstairs, her heart racing.

She saw Tony and Marcus, huddled in the corner, her eyes locking onto her family.

Her heart shattered.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Her voice cracked.

Marcus whispered, "Love you," his eyes filled with adoration.

His eyes rolled back; he collapsed.

Danielle screamed.

Nurses rushed, performing CPR, their swift movements urgent.

Internal bleeding!

Ten minutes of CPR.

Marcus's heart stopped.

Danielle and Tony clung to each other, shattered.

Tears flowed.

Their world crumbled.

Danielle's anguished wails echoed.

Tony's tiny body shook.

The church fell silent.

…

…

Danielle cradled Marcus's lifeless body, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Tony's tiny hands clung to her, his eyes welling with tears.

As she wept, a gentle hand rested on her shoulder. Nurse Jane's soft voice whispered, "You're not alone, Danielle."

The church, once filled with despair, transformed into a sanctuary of support.

Strangers became family, offering comfort and strength.

Danielle's gaze fell upon Marcus's peaceful face. Memories flooded her mind: laughter, adventures, and quiet moments.

Tony's sniffles subsided, replaced by whispered questions, "Mommy, why?"

Danielle's voice trembled, "Daddy's watching over us, baby. Always."

With renewed resolve, Danielle vowed to honor Marcus's love and legacy.

She stood, cradling Tony close.

"We'll be okay, baby," she whispered. "I promise."

--

--

Danielle stepped into her parents' cozy home, surrounded by loving warmth. Tony clung to her hand, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"They're home!" her mother exclaimed, embracing Danielle.

As Danielle settled in, her parents enveloped her and Tony in care.

Weeks passed, and Danielle's strength returned.

Her belly grew, a constant reminder of Marcus's love.

Labor pains arrived on a sunny morning.

Danielle's mother held her hand.

"You're so strong!" she whispered.

A tiny cry filled the room.

Danielle's heart swelled.

"Meet your sister, Tony," Danielle cooed.

Tony's eyes widened.

"Baby Mara!" he exclaimed.

Danielle smiled, tears flowing.

Marcus's memory lived on through Emily.

-New Beginnings-

Months passed, and Danielle found solace in her family.

Her parents' love nurtured her healing.

Tony thrived under their care.

Mara grew, a bright smile spreading joy.

Danielle rediscovered her passion for art.

Her brushstrokes told a story of resilience.

A studio blossomed in her parents' backyard.

"Marcus's Sunshine" became her signature piece.

Hope rekindled.

--

--

Danielle's heart still ached, but love prevailed.

Marcus's memory guided her.

She whispered stories to Mara about her daddy.

Tony's laughter filled the air.

Danielle's art inspired others.

--

--

Love never fades.

Resilience blooms.

Family heals!

Ayanna Edwards, is a devoted wife, mother, and self-published author. With a passion for storytelling, she authored a nonfiction book, 'Echoes of D'koda: A Mother's Reflection,' honoring her late daughter's memory, and four captivating fictional short stories. All her works are available on Amazon. She also shares her life experiences and imaginative tales on her personal blog, "Broken Beauty."