Lesson 4 Discussion Topic Essay

Discussion Topic
Tell us something scary that has happened to you. Don't worry about a word limit. No novels please. If nothing scary or frightening has ever happened to you, tell us what your favorite scary book or movie is.

         I am a native upstate New Yorker. I braved countless white-out snow storms that would shut down the state of Georgia for a month. I survived ice storms that required National Guard presence, and have many memories of emptying the contents of the refrigerator onto the back porch so the food would keep until the electricity was restored days later. I have seen hail on the Fourth of July. But I have never lived in a place prone to tornados, until now. And tornado season scares the shit out of me.

         A few months back a particularly nasty string of storms raged across Mississippi and Alabama, barrelling toward Georgia, it seemed, with a vengeance. The meteorologists developed a collective hard-on, bristling with excitement as they monopolized the media with round-the-clock coverage. Every television station cut regular programming into a five inch dice in the corner of the screen in favor of the wide angle shots of area maps and Doppler two radar images enhanced with new 3-D technology. As the storms drew nearer, the stories of destruction left in their paths paraded across the screen, brought to the viewing audience moments after happening by the brigade of ridiculous reporters ignoring common sense and standing outdoors, shouting their commentary over the howling wind and stinging rain.

         The dark, western sky developed a sinister green tinge as I stood watching from the kitchen window. Not a good sign. The news was reporting the storm's estimated time of arrival to our neighborhood for 4:16 p.m. Glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time, I saw we only had about five minutes. Suddenly, the raging wind speed became furious; the crepes myrtle trees in the side yard danced a jitter bug to its upped tempo. Prickles of fear stabbed my stomach and I felt cold and sweaty at the same time. I turned away from the window and faced my husband. "Time to get in the bathroom," was all he said.

         With our son, we ran to the only interior room in the house, a hall bathroom. We closed the door as the sound of a freight train roared through the building as if the walls were gone. We huddled on the floor, my husband and I trying to mask our own fear to reassure our son's sense of security. The deafening din swallowed our attempts to talk to each other so I was forced to entertain my panicked thoughts about whether or not the roof would hold, or if our insurance would refuse to pay for damages caused by an ‘act of god'. My husband pulled us even closer to him, providing shelter at least for my soul. Within three minutes it was over.

         We emerged tentatively from the bathroom, and relief washed over me when I saw the walls and roof intact. We opened the front entry door and found hail stones bigger than golf balls scattered across the lawn. The sky broke apart and a ray of sunshine momentarily fell through the clouds, chasing off the last shadow of fear in my heart.