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1. #1Pam Mytroen @ 2010-3-26 22:07

   Crash!
   The house shook and dishes rattled in the china cabinet. Tim slid deeper under the desk, pulling his little black dog, Timbit tightly to his chest.
   Great. I won’t get to try out the new Go-Karts tonight. He kicked a broken picture frame away from the desk. Dad won’t take me now. ‘Another earthquake.’ Another excuse to leave me at home alone again.
   Tim heard the crash before he felt the second shake. A tree fell through the dining room doors. Glass splintered and scattered across the floor. Timbit whined. Tim pulled his feet in under the desk.
   “Look boy, there’s a tree in our house.” But Tim didn’t feel as cheerful as he sounded.
   Pffffft. Rain pitter-pattered the stone patio outside. A breeze blew in and ruffled Timbit’s fur. He jumped from Tim’s arms and slid across the floor to the broken patio doors.
   “No! Timbit. Come back here.” Tim crawled from his safe space. “Timbit!”
   The puppy ran outside. Tim heard barking. He picked his way through the broken glass and stepped over the shards remaining upright in the door-frame. “Timbit!”
   It was bad enough that he wouldn’t get to see the Go-Karts tonight. Now Timbit was out on the street. If his dad caught him outside he would ground him.
   “It’s Dad’s fault that I’m out here chasing Timbit. If he was home this wouldn’t have happened.”
   Large branches covered the street. A tree had squashed a car. Sirens wailed in the distance.
   Tim ran across the grass and jumped over the sidewalk. “Timbit!” The rain came down harder. Soon a current was running down the street, driven by a strong wind.
   Timbit doesn’t like the rain. Maybe he’ll come back home. Tim called for his puppy.
   The wind stopped. Tim didn’t like the silence. He thought there might be another earthquake coming. He heard crying. No, it was whining.
   “Timbit!” More wimpering. Tim ran towards the sound of his puppy. He had fallen down a hole at a construction site.
   “I’m here, Timbit. It’s okay. I’ll get you out.” Tim laid on the muddy ground and dangled his arm into the hole. Almost! Timbit licked his fingertips. If he just eased over a bit more he could pick up his puppy by the collar.
   “Oh no!” Tim felt himself sliding. He dug in with his runners but the mud slid down into the hole and carried him with it.
   Timbit barked and licked Tim’s face.
   “Now Dad’s going to be really mad,” said Tim, rolling over and trying to stand in the slippery mud.
   The bottom of the hole started to fill with water. “How are we going to get out of here?”
   Timbit barked but Tim could hardly hear him over the splashing rain and howling wind. How would his Dad ever hear Tim calling? Would he find Tim before the water level rose too high? Or did his Dad care enough to even come home tonight?

2. #2Patricia Anne Elford @ 2010-3-28 22:48

   The Sound Barrier
   Crash!
   The house shook and dishes rattled in the china cabinet. Tim slid deeper under the desk, pulling his little black dog, Timbit, tightly to his chest.
   She was at it again. No doubt about it. Every time Brundy thumped through her dancing exercises, the entire house was her partner, matching bump to thump.
   Perhaps they could afford to turn the cellar into a finished basement, Tim thought as Tlmbit shivered against him. Surely the vibration would be less. Perhaps Mom and Dad could send her to a class a few blocks away? A few miles away? Not good enough! She would still practise her clumsy bump-and-destroy at home. Tim peered across the room at the wall crack that had extended just a little bit more, beginning each day at 7:30 a.m., when the music and earth-shifting began.
   It wasn’t that Brundy was fat; her build wasn’t even heavy. It was the way she moved. When she tip-toed, divots sputtered from the carpet. When Brundy flailed her arms in what were intended to be graceful circles, Sing-sing, their Siamese, yowled, running for cover; the curtains twirled into knotted confusion. When Brundy leaped, ah, when she leaped, the ceiling below her room pelted paint and plaster and the partially denuded chandelier danced a cacophonous jig. Nothing was safe.
   Tim watched now as mother’s favourite spider plant slowly tilted from the opposite table and bowed a muddy farewell in a pile of broken blue and white china on the floor.
   No encore? Thank goodness, no encore!
   The room was still. Desert-white dust coated the rug, surrounding the oasis of spider plant and dampened soil. Timbit bravely puttered over to paw at the plant and lick it. Tim slowly eased from his protective desk cave to review today’s damage before they caught the bus for school.
   Brundy, damp ponytail bouncing, eyes flashing, cheeks rosy, thundered out to the bus stop. Tim picked up the curtain rod that had fallen from the hooks on the door and shifted the curtain into place on the door’s small window.
   Mom was going to have a fit when she came home from work and saw the most recent response to Brundy’s “dancing”. Someday, Tim would say something to his sister. Someday.
   373 words

3. #3Linda Dawn Pettigrew @ 2010-3-30 07:55

   Love it! Such an action-packed descriptive piece on family life. Thanks for sharing.