Soon after she hung up, I began to notice tiny droplets of rain pattering the top of her headstone. I had come to visit her grave, as I often did, and I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine. I looked up at the sky and noticed the dark clouds rolling in. I was about to leave when I heard a faint whisper coming from the headstone.
“It’s coming,” the voice said.
I stepped back, my heart racing. I was sure I was just imagining things, but then I heard the voice again, this time louder.
“The storm is coming,” it said.
I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized the voice belonged to my mother. I remembered her warning me about the severe thunderstorm that was headed towards my part of town. I had thought she was just being overly protective, but now I knew she had been right.
I quickly gathered my things and ran to my car, the rain pouring down harder with each passing minute. I drove home as fast as I could, the wind howling and the rain pounding against my windows. I had never been so scared in my life.
When I finally arrived home, I rushed inside and locked the door behind me. I stayed inside for the rest of the night, too scared to even peek outside. The thunder and lightning continued for hours, and I could only imagine the destruction it was causing.
When morning came, I stepped outside to survey the damage. Everywhere I looked, there was destruction. Trees had been uprooted, cars flipped over, and homes destroyed. It was a miracle I had made it out alive.
I knew then that my mother had been trying to protect me, even from beyond the grave. I thanked her silently before turning away and heading back inside.