The Raft Idea

The Raft Idea

Jason Maxwell and his younger sister, Melody, watched a wall of grey clouds darken the distant mountains. Hunkered in their tent, eleven-year old Jason announced, “It’s a super storm, a real soaker. The river’ll flood, and we’ll have to take down the doors to build rafts so we don’t drown.”

Melody giggled, but even at seven, she thought her brother was making things sound worse than they really were. Still, she liked camping in the living room with him, with the tent’s see-through blue walls, and the floor softened by blankets and pillows.

She said, “Mom and Dad won’t let that happen. Nobody will drown.”

“You and Mom will get on the roof while we build the rafts. We have extra nails in the drawer, and Dad says I’m getting better with the hammer every day!” Jason said, lifting his chin.

Melody answered, “Is that why your thumb is all busted? From messing around in the garage?”

Jason turned his gaze back to the storm, deciding not to answer.

“Think they’re asleep?” she asked.

Jason shrugged.

Dad had been in the guest room most of the night.

The kids didn’t like when their parents fought, but sleeping beneath the living room’s huge windows, with a view of the countryside in every direction, almost made up for it.

Closer now, storm clouds blocked the moonlight. The trees, barns, and swing set their father had built slowly disappeared beneath the encroaching darkness, like a funeral shroud draped across the land.

“Here it comes,” Jason said, and Melody scooted closer to him, squeezing her unicorn blanket tightly around her shoulders. Jason felt her familiar presence, her little shoulder brushing against his arm, but he didn’t look away from the storm.

A boom of thunder shook their home and Melody squealed. Jason let out a little yelp, even though it hadn’t been that loud. Still, it was important that he be calm and brave.

That was at least one thing Mom and Dad agreed on.

Winds came next — a ghoulish moan of air that shook the family pictures on the wall. Gusts wrapped around the house, and the furniture creaked; silverware chittered.

Melody shut her eyes tight, burying her nose against Jason’s arm. Her face was wet, and Jason didn’t know if it was tears or sweat. “It’s okay,” he said, “it’s just a little wind and noise. Wind won’t knock our house down – I promise.”

She lifted her head to look at him. He looked angry at the storm. Sitting up straighter, she saw he was right. Nothing had really moved.

An explosion of thunder broke the moment, louder than before. Jason grabbed Melody and pulled her to the ground, simultaneously covering them both with his blanket. A moment of empty silence fell over the house, and then they heard the first drop.

The rain started slow. Fat, loud drops. Jason imagined an army marching across their roof.

It grew to a fierce tempo, driven by the angry winds. Thunder, closer than ever, made the house tremble. Jason lifted his head and looked outside. Like some alien planet, everything was fast and scary, and a bolt of lightning suddenly lit the whole yard. In that brief light, Jason could see nothing but monsters.

“What…what’s happening?” Melody asked, peeking out.

“Nothing,” he said. “The storm’s moving fast. It will be past our house soon.”

Gripping her brother’s hand, Melody sat upright. Through the tent’s aqua flaps, the world appeared to be black and spinning. Jason crawled towards the tent’s opening, holding on to Melody, who clutched her blanket.

She let him lead her out.

The hardwood floor was cold and smooth beneath their bare feet. They had each taken their first steps in that living room, and they knew every inch of it. They walked around the sofa, up two stairs, and across a colorful rug Mom was strangely proud of.

Outside was some type of hell. Rain flew sideways across the windows. The yard, the swing set, even the barns had vanished into a grey blur. Lightning arced and roared, illuminating random areas like a haunted house they’d visited the previous Halloween. Jason imagined himself out there, carried away by a gust, then zapped by lightning until he melted.

Melody squeezed his hand tighter.

She glanced toward the dark hallway. "Maybe we should get Mom and Dad."

Jason shook his head. "Mom finally fell asleep."

“But this is scary,” she pleaded.

Jason took a deep breath. The storm really did look worse than he’d ever seen, but he knew what would happen if they woke the parents. More yelling, then back to their beds instead of the tent.

“I was joking earlier,” he said, “there’s no way everything will flood. We live on a hill, and that’s why we can see so far away on pretty days.”

The seven-year old’s grip lessened. She grinned and twirled. “I knew it. You’re a liar.”

“Am not!” he said, and at the same moment, something slammed into the nearest window.

Both kids jumped back. Heart pounding, Jason stepped up to the glass. It looked like a pillow from their outside chairs. “Come look! I think it’s somebody’s head!”

“Nuh-uh!” she said, though her feet didn’t move. A moment later, still holding her blanket, she slowly walked up to the window to get a closer look. Just as she realized it was a pillow, Jason shouted, “Boo!”

Melody, jumped back, laughing. Jason laughed harder. “Got you! I got you!”

“No you didn’t!” she squealed.

“You were scared,” he said, grabbing her blanket. He gave her a little tug-of-war before releasing it.

She laughed again and they looked outside, shoulder to shoulder.

A crack of lightning turned the whole scene bright white. It was the loudest, most violent thing they’d ever heard. Like a hundred bad words at once.

Like something breaking.

The Maxwell siblings ran. Back to the tent. To safety.

Jason wrapped his blanket tightly around his sister, and they huddled there, shivering and sniffling until exhaustion finally caught up with them. Then they curled up under the big blanket. Soon, the rain slowed to a sprinkle. Everything got very dark and still.

Sunlight warmed Jason’s face. He woke up slowly, yawning, wondering what was for breakfast. He stepped out of the tent. Mom was in the kitchen — he could smell coffee brewing. Dad was in the backyard, hands on his hips, looking at a giant branch that had fell onto the roof of their main barn.

The yard was littered with branches, but the river hadn’t flooded. Nobody had needed a raft.

Then Mom stepped onto the porch and handed Dad a mug of coffee.

Neither of them spoke.

Jason watched them for a second, then turned around and went to wake Melody.

It was time for breakfast.