Stormy Weather

When I was young we lived in a part of the country known for it's
bad storms. My dad used to tell us the story about how lightning hit
his Model T, just as he sent my brother out to roll the windows up. He
said that if my brothers feet had been on the ground he would have been
just as dead as the two dogs under that car were. After that happened
he built a storm house

I don't know why he would call it a house. It was a deep hole in the
ground two steps down, with two benches one on each side and wood
supports up top.

From the outside it looked like an Indian Mound. From the inside it
smelled like death and was pitch black. When a storm happened at night
he would yell everybody up and in the storm house this looks like a bad
one.

He would never let us get our shoes or anything. We ran out in our
gowns, got all wet and cold and went down into that dungeon. I know
that there were bugs of all kinds in there, I can't even imagine what
else was in there with us.

He had a kerosene lantern, almost as bright as a candle. When he went
up those two steps and swung the door open to see if the storm was
lettin up any, he always took the lantern with him. I guess he thought
he could see the sky better if he had a light. I never did figure that
one out.

We would sit there and shivver trying to keep our feet up off the
floor. I always tried to keep my eyes shut tight, I didn't want to know
what was in there with us.

As soon as the storm let up a bit, we would all head back inside to
wash the mud off our feet, crawl back in bed and try to sleep. most of
the time when I did go back to sleep I would dream of being burried
alive.

Once I remember having to do this twice in one night. Nothing ever bit
us while we were in the storm house. But I can still feel things
crawling all over me when I think of that place.

There's no way that I could go down into a cave to see how beautiful
they are. Even when I see people in caves on television I have to leave
the room to be able to breathe.