They warned of an approaching storm, “a whopper,” they said. We’d seen our share of whoppers. “We can weather it,” I said.
As if on cue, the rain fell and the river rose.
Still, we could ride it out, withstand the brutality as the rain horizontally pounded our farmhouse and the river hungrily knocked at our door.
After the lifeline dropped to the rooftop, and I was airlifted to safety, I would repeat this story over and over to dampen the agony and guilt that raged within me. The local news would report my wife and daughter were never found.
This story was written for Friday Fictioneers; one hundred words based on the photo. If you would like to read the other stories, click on the badge: