Categories > Original > Fantasy > Storm
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What does it mean? We haven’t told anyone, not even Seth and Bre! How could someone have found out? Jezabel fretted.
Calm down, Jez. This may not mean anything. Maybe the doctors did find something and didn’t tell us. But we both knew this was a long shot. Surely the doctors would have told us, or our parents, at least. Though even if we weren’t told, the doctors would have wanted to keep us in longer for more tests.
‘Meet me where it happened.’ What do you think that means? Jez was trying to figure out the meaning of the cryptic letter.
Well, the last place we were before we woke up in hospital was the park where that freaky storm happened, I reasoned. Perhaps they mean that park?
Yeah, that seems the most likely place, Jez agreed. I wish we knew who wrote it. It would make it easier to discern whether or not it’s a hoax.
Do you think we should go? I asked Jez’s opinion, deciding that it would be best to go.
I agree with you. Let’s go.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of monotony. I drove to school again on Tuesday, but Jez and I decided to walk for the rest of the week.
Friday arrived, and Jez and I walked with Al (who had stayed patiently by our sides until Jez and I were found in our comas in the park) down to the park to meet up with the mysterious author of the letter.
Approaching the park, we noticed that there were lots of people out in the nice weather, a stark contrast to the last tie we were here.
We had arrived a few minutes early, so Jez and I sat on a park bench, watching Al frolic around and chase birds and wait. Though for whom, we did not know.
As our watches ticked over to 4 o’clock, Jez and I heard someone calling our names.
“Storm, Jez.”
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What does it mean? We haven’t told anyone, not even Seth and Bre! How could someone have found out? Jezabel fretted.
Calm down, Jez. This may not mean anything. Maybe the doctors did find something and didn’t tell us. But we both knew this was a long shot. Surely the doctors would have told us, or our parents, at least. Though even if we weren’t told, the doctors would have wanted to keep us in longer for more tests.
‘Meet me where it happened.’ What do you think that means? Jez was trying to figure out the meaning of the cryptic letter.
Well, the last place we were before we woke up in hospital was the park where that freaky storm happened, I reasoned. Perhaps they mean that park?
Yeah, that seems the most likely place, Jez agreed. I wish we knew who wrote it. It would make it easier to discern whether or not it’s a hoax.
Do you think we should go? I asked Jez’s opinion, deciding that it would be best to go.
I agree with you. Let’s go.
The rest of the week passed in a blur of monotony. I drove to school again on Tuesday, but Jez and I decided to walk for the rest of the week.
Friday arrived, and Jez and I walked with Al (who had stayed patiently by our sides until Jez and I were found in our comas in the park) down to the park to meet up with the mysterious author of the letter.
Approaching the park, we noticed that there were lots of people out in the nice weather, a stark contrast to the last tie we were here.
We had arrived a few minutes early, so Jez and I sat on a park bench, watching Al frolic around and chase birds and wait. Though for whom, we did not know.
As our watches ticked over to 4 o’clock, Jez and I heard someone calling our names.
“Storm, Jez.”
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