I could smell it in the air before I could it see it. Usually, smelling rain in the air has a calming affect on me. Not today. Today, I could smell rain, electricity, and something more sinister on its way. Today, the threat of a tornado hang heavily like a ominous vulture waiting to make its strike.

Calmly and quickly, I stop what I am doing and put away my gardening tools and call for Frida, my dog. Nothing. I jog to the other side of the house. Still no sign of her. I yell her name again and my heart starts to race. The clouds start to stir and fight with each other. They are black and mustard yellow now. Not always a bad sign but it doesn’t sit right.

Where in the world could she be, I think. There’s no doggy door and our property backs onto a forest. Most days she responds when being called. What’s holding her up? It’s only a matter of time before-

The eerie wail of the siren goes off.

I swear under my breath. Darting to the back door, I stop to grab a leash, a flare gun, and peanut butter. I don’t know if want I’m about to do it smart. What I do know is I need to find her. I need her to be safe.

I sprint out into the back lawn into the woods. Rain starts to sprinkle a bit. Rain, I can handle. A tornado, less so. I call out for her. The wind picks up more. I call for her again. I open the peanut butter, hoping she can smell it from wherever she’s at.

A small voice in the back starts to panic. It called me an idiot and tells me I’m in the most dangerous place to be. That I need to get out now and find shelter. I shove the voice away. Frida is family. I won’t leave her behind.

Banshee cries from the siren still echo. The trees rock back and forth just a little too much for comfort. While the forest is not too dense, this is the worse possible place to be. Tree limbs and branches start to fly off; a few wack me in the process.

I’m still screaming for Frida. My throat starts to crack. The voice in the back of my mind is getting too loud to ignore. I’m starting to doubt if I can find her in time. “You’re going to die out here” the voice says. Emotions threaten to over take me. I scream and scream and scream for Frida until I find it hard to breathe.

I don’t know how much time I have but the falling trees and push of the wind against my body say I need to make a choice now. I’m no where near any buildings. If I run back to the house now, I may not make it in time. Up ahead there is a semi-shallow cliff. “Shall I make another poor decision today?” I sarcastically say to myself.

I throw the flare gun over the cliff. As it hits the ground, I prepare to gently guide myself down the cliff. One of the tree near me has another idea. A previously fallen tree trunk rolls toward me at an alarming speed.

It’s weird to think books and movies are a bit right when they life can flash before your eyes. I don’t feel my heartbeat. Noise ceases exist. “Ah, so this is how I die?” My mind whispers. But my body disagrees. It kicks into overdrive and instructs my instincts to take over. My body pushes itself off the ledge and braces itself as it rolls down the hill. My arms cover my face and neck. My whole being pleads with the tree trunk not to follow.

It’s rocky and every roll of my body hurts more than the last. I think I stop. But everything goes dark.

/////

Perhaps, not all dumb ideas turn out terrible. I awake to the smell of peanut butter. Frida licks my face and a paramedic calls out to me.

Over few days, I get updates (and scolding) from local authorities while I recover in the hospital. Not only was my house flattened by the tornado but the debris caused my gas line to explode, catching most of the property on fire. Dumb luck or not, if it wasn’t for Frida, I wouldn’t be alive.