Evening Writng (The Storm Arrives)

          Dinner was a rushed and quiet meal. Though the storm was not talked about, I knew it was on all of our minds as the cloud inched closer to Mieno Octel, After the meal was over, there was not the usual chaos. Instead, the children sat by the fire and glared into the dull ashes. I noticed Omam didn't put the container of leftover soup in the cabinet where we usually put it, but instead on the table. I sit on my bed flat and peer out the square window.
          On the windowsill I keep my treasures. There is a small notebook with pieces of wrinkled paper sticking out, a small grey pebble, and a sketch that my eldest sister Kendria drew of our family standing in front of Mieno Octel. The paper is yellowing, but it is all I have left from Kendria.
          The cloud creeps forward behind my keepsakes, past the hinges of the oiled flap of paper that I have tacked open for the time being. A small stick holds it in to the mud above the windowsill. Thunder booms in the distance, and light flashes. I don't think the rest of the family heard it, but nonetheless, I creep to the trap door leading into the cellar shaft. Boards are tacked to the wood like a makeshift ladder, but whenever we have to climb to the cellar in case of a storm I get scared. I think Omam does too, but Baba is fearless. I am sure he would jump down the shaft for all that it's worth.
          When rain starts to drop, I continue watching out the window but move the stone, journal, and sketch to a wooden box with flowers carved into the top. The box normally holds only a blade, but now I must trust it with my dearest keepsakes.
          The rain continues to come. It increases to a steady stream, and puddles form on the dust ground.
          It's time.