When she saw the storm lurking on the horizon, she honestly didn't think much of it. There didn't appear to be anything special behind the churning dark clouds aside from the occasional brighter-than-usual flashes of lightning. Each time a bolt reached out to the ocean below, it illuminated the sky - startling her. It wasn't a just a quick flash like she had grown up seeing along the coast. No. These were different. They seemed to linger in the air for a moment - draining the color from everything. Even miles away, each strike was bright enough for her to see miles in all directions - cutting through the inkiness of the night without a problem. It was rather impressive, but it still didn't bother her.
Then the thunder began.
Out of nowhere it began rumbling. Low and slow. Taking its time to repeat itself. But soon enough the spacing between the flashes and growling answer began to grow shorter and shorter. Each time becoming a little louder than the last. This thunder was different too. It sounded animalistic. As it got closer, the fiercer it boomed. It wasn't long before it was shaking the little shack. Causing plates to rattle in the cupboards and dust to sprinkle down from the rafters. There was something guttural about it. Echoing out from deep within the clouds. This wasn't just a storm blowing through. This was a warning.
By the time she had bolted up all the windows and tried to leave, the tide had risen, far enough that it was lapping at the base of the porch. She was absolutely stunned. Last time she had looked the ocean was just beginning to creep into her yard. It was hopeless now. Somewhere down in the swirling brackish water lay her car - fully submerged. She strained her eyes against the horizon to try and see how her neighbors were fairing, but it was too dark. An absolute abyss.
It looked like she had to wait this one out.
So back inside she went, making sure to lock the door behind her, knowing that if the water kept rising, it'd soon sneak in under the door. But it didn't matter, there was just something about hearing the deadbolt slide into place that eased her nerves. As she made her way throughout the rest of the shack, she continued with her pre-storm rituals - double checking that every window was bolted and outer shutters latched and closed. She removed anything heavy from the walls, made sure that there was a flashlight next to her bed with fresh batteries and had a couple candles spread out sporadically. Just as she was finishing up, the rain began to fall. Light at first. Almost relaxing. It had a nice cadence to it, drumming against the thin wooden roof. But it quickly changed its tune, falling quicker and heavier. Beating against the wood with no discernible pattern - testing its strength.
As she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up securely around her chin, she prayed the roof over her head would hold strong.
When she awoke, she was startled with how quiet it all was. She heard no birds. No wind. No crashing waves. Getting out of bed, she was pleased to find no water had managed to sneak into the house. All was dry. Her little shack had made it. But when she opened the door and walked out onto the porch, she realized nothing else had.
There was nothing left.
Except for an ocean of sand.
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