The Vortex
Published in The Story Circle Journal, March 2019
Author’s note: The Vortex is a creative writing piece that appeared in the True Words From Real Women section of the journal; the writing prompt topic was Mother Nature.
Our small group was shivering on the 50-yard line when she arrived. She caught us all by surprise.
Her name was Helena. Like a woman spying her lover in the adulterous clutches of another, she shrieked and overturned our portable chairs as we scrambled for shelter.
“Hey, wait for me,” I yelled at Spencer’s retreating backside. I ran in hot pursuit. An image from long ago popped into my head: a fiercely determined little girl driving a soccer ball down this field. The wind mimicked the roar from the sidelines as my sneakers retraced the familiar terrain.
I caught up with Spencer; we dashed between the goal posts together. My car was parked just ahead. Helena was closing in on us.
My squealing tires tattooed thick tread-marks into the pavement. Panting heavily, Spencer and I quickly steamed up the windows. I turned on the radio. A local meteorologist equated Storm Helena’s premature arrival as that of an annoying guest, showing up much earlier than the host expected.
“Channel 7 could blindfold a Capuchin monkey and let him throw darts at a spinning board to provide a more accurate weather forecast,” I grumbled.
Spencer enthusiastically wagged his prodigious Golden Retriever tail in agreement.
Hours later, safely ensconced in the den, the pelting rain transformed into fat snowflakes. I curled up on my chaise, several logs evenly burned in the fireplace. My companions included a paperback, a near-empty wine glass, and the bear-rug-impersonating dog, stretched out on the floor.
Helena howled, growled and cursed, bullying the power-grid. The lights flickered. Or maybe it was the flames in the fireplace. The smoky Malbec had made me sleepy. I was reminded of flickering candles on a birthday cake, of a childhood wish for a snowstorm and for school to be canceled.
The stillness of the morning awakened me. The fields were cloaked in a pristine white cape. A layer of ice encrusted the surface, sparkling like the opalescent buttons on my favorite childhood coat.
I shivered at Mother Nature’s mercurial temperament. Yesterday she was a jackal. Today she was a lamb.
