Let's Do the Twist

Sam jumped in his seat, as his phone blared at him, “Danger, tornado warning. Take shelter.” Really? He got up and went to the window and pulled the heavy curtain back and peered outside. It was pretty dark for only 3PM. It did look very blustery out there: rain was pelting down and the wind was whipping the trees around. But a tornado? Hmmm. He wasn’t particularly worried. I mean, what were the odds, right?

He went upstairs and looked out the window in the guest bedroom. He turned out the overhead light to reduce the reflection on the window and gazed out across the flat landscape. This window had the furthest view. It looked pretty stormy, but he didn’t see any tornado.

--

The tornado laughed to itself and switched directions. Oh, it was marvelous! It wanted to run all the ways at once! It spun and laughed and moved over the land. It went through a little copse of trees and delighted in uprooting most of them and flinging them far afield. It left one standing, unmolested, in the center. It shook with laughter and huge chunks of hail rained down. It thought, I think I should maybe pay a little visit to my old friend, Sam Mustard. With that, it set out toward the city.

--

“No. No, it didn’t”, thought Sam. He went back downstairs and sat down in the living room. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped to a station with a weather report. “…what we know so far. We will bring you updates as we learn more. For those of you in Polk, Boone, and Warren counties, I think you’ve already received notice to shelter in place. You’ll really want to head down to your basement, or at least go ahead and make your base a room with few or no windows. Now, let’s take a look at what’s causing all this trouble…” Sam tuned out and just sat there not really listening. Of course, this was bringing up all kinds of memories about past storms…how could it not? He’d spent countless hours in therapy, trying various ways to combat the idea that somehow, some way, a storm could be…an entity. He snapped the rubber band on his wrist. Ow! “Ok, ok, I won’t think about it.”

He thought about it. 

--

When Sam was 12, he lived in a much more rural area. His mom loved horses and they had some land, and a barn, and paddock. The day started off like any day. It was beautiful and sunny, actually. He helped his mom with feeding and watering the horses. He messed around down by the creek. He played with his G.I. Joe guys, making them do various, ultra-dangerous, underwater missions. Then the day started to look…bruised. The sky grew darker and darker and the wind picked up. His mom called him to come in, but he thought, “there’s no rush”.

--

The tornado raced toward the city. It could feel its friend Sam was there. It laughed and pulled up flowers and trees and even rocks. It lifted a car for fun and flung it up on top of a carport. You had two floors of parking--and you never realized it! You're welcome! It smashed windows and flung doors off their hinges. It picked up roofs and flung them as far as it could, like throwing an unwieldy square frisbee. It took a whole murmuration of starlings and wrote its secret name in the sky. Such fun! It went through the drive-thru at a burger joint, ripping out the entire ordering board as it contemplated what it might want for takeout. “500 chocolate shakes, please,” it cried with the sound of thunder booming. Its laughter echoed away and bounced off the clouds. It left the drive-thru, then impetuously turned back and tore the roof off the place, lifted the shake machine out and threw it as far as it could. It opened the freezer and scattered frozen french-fries over the ground in a complicated and beautiful pattern. Oh! It was getting late. He should really head over to Sam’s.

--

“God damn it,” Sam thought. He even snapped the rubber band again. Well, that was useless advice from his most recent therapist. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, my ass. What a crock. He snapped it again, just to be sure. Ow. Even if it was somehow true, that a…weather pattern could be a sentient being, why would it care about him? It didn’t make sense on any level. He went to grab another beer and sat on the sofa. The weather guy was still blathering on. He glanced up at the window, seeing the familiar purple/blue sky. It was too much like all those years ago.

--

His mother finally became frantic and headed down to collect Sam. He looked up from where he was sitting on his haunches, digging in the dirt. He was burying some of the guys who didn’t make it from the earlier underwater missions. He saw his mom, her long red hair flying in the wind, stomping down through the yard. Her orange plaid shirt and red hair looked electric against the dark violet sky. He could see that she was yelling for him, but the wind whipped her words away and he smirked, thinking, “I didn’t hear you.”

--

Now the tornado moved through the city streets. It bent several lampposts, but wasn’t able to tear them out of their cozy concrete bases. It broke a few windows and felt better. It ripped the roofs off of three houses in a row. It flipped a stupid-looking bright green car over. Ha! Suddenly it veered off to the left, down a broader avenue. “Saaaaaaaaaaaam”, it cried in a voice like a wind tunnel. And again, “Saaaaaaaaaaaaam!”

--

Sam took a long drink of the beer he’d forgotten he held. Maybe this would help him stop thinking! Not one therapist had recommended that he simply take to the drink. He laughed mirthlessly. The wind was howling outside. He raised his beer in a toast to the sky and said, “go fuck yourself”.

He felt the air pressure change. His sinuses felt full and the hair on his arms stood up. “Nope.” He continued drinking.

Why didn’t he keep anything stronger in the house? This wasn’t working. He closed his eyes, but it only made it worse. There was his mom, illuminated against his eyelids. He watched in horror, as the tornado hit her from the side like a mack truck. She screamed, or at least it looked like she did. Then she flew away.

Sam hit himself in the head. Stop it. Stop it.

He didn’t stop it.

--

He watched her getting smaller in the sky. He shook his head violently, trying to dislodge the image. Then the tornado…it laughed and said to him, “would you like to fly, kid?”

He backed away, falling on the ground, then scrambling to his feet. He watched the tornado double back and rip the roof of the house. It brushed past the barn and half of it was suddenly gone. A few horses flew up into the sky. More of them ran out, past the now open wall. Their eyes were rolling white in their heads and their manes and tails were whipping crazily around them. 

He watched the tornado grab the black horse, Mori, and lift him up into the sky, his legs still running against the air.

The tornado boomed at him, “I like you, Sam Mustard!! I really do! We can have such fun together. Watch this!” Sam screamed as the horse screamed, and watched as Mori was flung far away, past the now roofless house.

--

Sam started from his reverie. He knew. He KNEW that it was just a storm. That it was not possible that he had really seen those things. He was a kid. He was in shock. His mom was killed for god’s sake. But…

Suddenly he thought he heard his name in the wind outside. “Saaaaaaaam,” it said. “Come out and plaaaaay! He hesitated for a moment and then ran for the basement stairs in the kitchen. He tumbled down them, twisting his ankle painfully and knocking his head against the wall on his way down.

He cowered at the bottom of the stairs, before dragging himself painfully over to the washing machine and sitting up against it. Suddenly the basement was just…open to the sky. The tornado leaned down over him. “Sam! It’s me Sam! How are you? Wow, it’s been a while!”

Sam screamed, but the wind tore his voice from him, as soon as it left his mouth. 

 “Have you missed me? I missed you! Hey, Sam, look at this!” The tornado leapt over him and pulverized the neighbor’s house. He saw their furniture lifted into the tornado. He tried to look away, but the wind ripped his hand from his eyes. He saw his neighbor and his wife and kids flying. Even from this distance, they looked terrified. He yelled at the tornado, “Stop it! Stop!”

“Stop? Why, Sam, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you know how to have fun anymore?”

“Fine. Be like that. Ooh! A gas station! Those are great! I’m going to see if I can make it explode!” It started to zoom off. Then it doubled back and leaned over the basement again.

“Bye Sam! It was good to see you again” It zipped around the the perimeter of the basement hole. “It really was,” it said and rained rubble and leaves and branches down over the basement. Then it was gone. Sam laid where he was with just his head bent up against the washing machine. He lay there trembling, until--much later--he finally stopped.