Nightmare, Jefferson Parish
So, August. Okay, I did promise you a hurricane story. Here’s my flash fiction piece called Nightmare, Jefferson Parish. (700 words) I hope you enjoy it!
Uhf. I drag myself off the couch, away from the non-stop images of impending weather. Those red circles churning on the screen have held me mesmerized for hours now. Heading to the kitchen for a snack, I’m brought up short by Sarah’s urgent voice: “Bud, the pillows and quilts are all down. Get away from the windows and come to the hallway with me. NOW.” I jam one last bunch of cookies in my mouth, glance outside, and lumber down the hall like some obedient dog. These things always seem to fire up in the late night hours, and she gets hyper-anxious.
We settle into the goose down layers. She spoons me and throws an arm over my shoulder. We lie awake soundlessly, listening to the wind scream around the corners of the house. I remember now. This will go on all night and, even when I’m asleep, I’ll dream about the last big one. It’s not infrequent here in Nawlins…we’re kind of used to it. I snuggle closer to Sarah, comforting her with my body heat, and we drift off to the droning sound of wind-driven rain on the shutters.
I’m with a family. Mom, Dad, and a boy….maybe a small baby girl? We tumble downstairs together from an elevated first floor. They head to a truck, load in bags, food, and bedclothes. Dad comes for me last, grabs me by my coat and shows me where I can hide, a place under the stairs by one of the pilings. I give him a look that says why can’t I go? He says sorry, kiddo, no more room in the Jeep. You’ll be safe here. Won’t be long.
I never see any of them again.
Soon the wind picks up, screaming like a pack of howler monkeys. I wriggle deeper under the stairs. When the rain begins, I’m glad I have cover for the oncoming night. The heat had been awful, turned me sweaty and smelly and made my nose drip. But it turns cold as time goes on. From beneath the house, I stare out at the rising water on the bay, getting a whiff of tangled scents brought in by the incoming tide. Dead fish, diesel fuel, seaweed, something metallic. The sky lights up and the crashing sounds begin. I cover my head and try to sleep.
The creeping feeling of water edging up my body wakes me. When lightning cracks open the sky, I sneak another peek at the bay and see a wall of water headed my way. I scramble from under the stairs and climb the first two steps, huddled close to the railing. The water hits the pilings and swirls just beneath me, carrying branches and all sorts of debris. I move up another two steps and hunker down. Again and again it comes in waves until I am on the top step. I wedge my shivering body between the front door stoop and the railing and hang on for what seems like a very long time. I wish I’d eaten a lot more food before we left the house. From the higher place I can now see a few houses around me. Their roofs and shutters are coming loose and banging into the trees. I’m going to be next. I put my head beneath the railing and hang onto the top step tightly. A dead cat floats by on the swirling current, followed closely by a snake. I sigh deeply and close my eyes, resigned to my fate.
“Bud! Bud! Wake up! It’s morning. We made it, Buddy. Sun’s out!” Sarah leans down and hands me my favorite biscuit. “Good boy!” I look up at her with my best smile. It always makes her laugh when my upper lip gets caught in my canines. Usually good for a pat and a second cookie. I snuffle her toes, get up, and do one of my huge yawn-stretches, ready for the day. Sometimes, when I think of how I first saw her at that Animal Rescue place and how she called me Buddy from the get-go, my tail gets to wagging itself until it goes in circles and it just won’t stop.
©Copyright2025 by Jayne M. Adams