Fiction: Weather


 “You doing all right?” Al asked, indicating a bandage on his brother’s arm.

Jared grunted. He did not look at the white gauze that stretched from his wrist to his elbow. He said, “You’d never know we had any weather at all to look at your neighborhood.”

“Nope,” Al agreed.

Jared lifted his mug, then cradled it in both hands close to his chest.

“Are you OK?” Al asked again.

Jared leaned forward and set the coffee cup on the table. Finally, he said, “The worst was when the tub flipped. The wind screamed, and the house crashed, and I just laid there under the mattress. And then the tornado picked me up. I lost the mattress, but the tub moved so fast I was glued to the bottom, and I watched that wind snatch the floor right out of my house before it threw me back down on the slab underneath the tub. And then the house thundered down on top of me. I didn’t even notice the cuts until the fire crew dug me out.”

“Well, you came through the other side,” said Al.

“I came through lucky,” Jared agreed.

Outside, a low diesel rumble announced their younger brother’s arrival. Letting himself in the back door, Myron said. “Not much left out at your place.”

Jared said, “Not to speak of.” Then he rose from the table, leaving the coffee behind, and crossed to Myron. They clasped arms; then Al, too stood. He laid a hand on Jared’s shoulder. For that moment, they carried together the weight of the sky and the things men don’t say. Then they let go. Al and Jared returned to the table, and Myron walked over to get himself some coffee.

Myron said. “Cleanup’s going to be a regular beast.”

“That’s for sure,” said Jared, taking a drink from his mug. “A beast.”


It’s tornado season in the South. And this week’s Trifecta challenge is beast.


16 thoughts on “Fiction: Weather

  1. shiver . . . we have frigid temps and mountains that steam and sometimes blow their tops. I will take those any day over the tornadoes I experienced while growing up in Ohio. I miss lots of things about “home,” but that is not one of those things.

    Sit tight and stay safe.

    • Thanks — my Mom’s comment (she’s in Ohio) was “…and it’s only January. I’m just glad you guys live in a brick house”.

      Even though we both know a brick house is only some protection.

    • Happy WordPressdate birthday. I don’t know why WordPress thinks I live overseas. It’s really the 26th here, too. But it breaks my days at noon most of the time instead of midnight.

  2. I particularly liked this ‘For that moment, they carried together the weight of the sky and the things men don’t say.’

    Very clever the way you have linked the weather snd their emotions.

    • Yay! That sentence was the point of the whole piece for me. I wanted a story about these brothers who love each other quite a lot but don’t have enough words in the world to express it.

  3. Your characters are always so calm and measured and have their heads screwed on, I wish mine could behave more responsibly! The way Jared was talking about it, I thought it had happened years ago and not in the immediate, which was just right for his character really. 🙂

    • Thanks! I really struggled with capturing that understated conversation style without making the story actually boring. I’ve talked to some of these guys, and they’ll place the most JAW dropping of tales in your lap as gently as you might talk about the weather.

  4. One of my top five nightmares I think. Luckily we don’t have a lot of storms, floods or earthquakes in this area. I like how it makes the family come together in your story.

For the love of Mike, TALK to me! (Concrit welcome on fiction)

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