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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #1660592
Contest entry for Daily Flash Fiction using the prompt tornado, scrape and time.
    He ran towards the barn, the tornado alarms blaring over the landscape as he raced through the fields.  The wind was almost shrieking louder than the alarms.  His thoughts were on the Earth horses that were stabled there.  It was expensive to import them and he didn’t dare leave them to weather out the storm.  Native livestock were easily replaceable, but along with the horses, he ushered in the Felcows, the native cow-like creatures and the few Wolps (sheep-like creatures) left in the barn that hadn’t scattered, choosing their own devices in the storm, than the cellar beneath the barn.

    The horses did not like the dark, dank, cramped quarters nor the Felcows and Wolps, but the wind frightened them more.  He quickly threw shovels full of oats down below before securing the hatch on the storm cellar, turning to make his way to the safety under the homestead that awaited him.
 
    His wife should already be there, having returned from the city the day previous.  Their oldest child was stationed in the planet’s home guard.  Hopefully the storms weren’t affecting her region, but usually the wind storms were planet wide when they hit.  His middle two were at school a few kilometers away, safely inside a government built shelter.  He, his wife and their youngest would tough things out in his homemade shelter.

    He fell, scraping his knee, cursing as the wind knocked him down, just meters from the shelter’s door.  He crawled the short distance and secured the door behind him, making his way down the stairs.  All he could hear now was the horrible wind.  He made it in time.  He saw his wife was trying to calm their youngest as they settled in, trapped, the next few days by the storm.
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