The Last Moment

Assignment: Write a historical fiction short story using at least ten specific details from an article. Include different types of charaters (round, static, flat, etc.), direct and indirect characterization, and flashback, suspense, or foreshadowing. Keep a distinct perspective through out and include a theme, not directly stated.

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It was a warm summer day in New Orleans, Louisiana. I lay on grass in the front yard embracing the cool breeze that offered slight relief on the humid, 90°F day. I watched the clouds covering the blue sky and was thankful there weren’t any thunder storms. Lydia lay next to me and I could tell from her expression she was thinking hard about something. I turned my attention back to the sky until she spoke.

“Life is just a bunch of fleeting moments. Then it all just… ends,” she mused, not talking to anyone in particular.

I turned to face her again. Her long, golden hair made a sea around her, while her brown eyes sparkled.

“When did you become so philosophical?” I asked jokingly.

She turned and smiled at me, which made our noses inches apart. “I have my moments.”

I thought about what she said for a few seconds. Her words didn’t mean as much then.

I entwined my fingers with hers. “Then we’ll have to make the most of those moments. Together.”

I was jolted back to the present to find myself sitting on the living room carpet. My brother was arguing with my mom like he had been since the beginning of evacuations. As of yesterday, August 28th, evacuations were proceeding across the Gulf Coast. The storm had formed August 23rd near the Bahamas and was coming our way. Hurricane Katrina was predicted by the National Weather Service to leave the Gulf Coast unlivable for at least a few weeks since the levees in the city couldn’t be relied on to hold much of the water back. New Orleans’ first mandatory evacuation had been ordered and most people had left in a hurry. But not us. There we were, together in the same house as always in a small New Orleans neighborhood too close to the coast for comfort. It was barely the morning of August 29th, so the sun hadn’t even come out yet. The storm was very close now, I could feel it in the air.

My mom wanted to stay here because it was our home. We could wait out the hurricane in our own house all together. But she was also holding on. This was the last place the whole family was together and happy before Dad went MIA in Iraq a few months ago. This was the house they picked out together. She couldn’t bring herself to leave a place so full of memories of him.

“Ma, we can’t stay here,” my brother warned.

“Thomas, this is our home. We can wait out the storm here,” she told him.

“Ma this is a hurricane. It’s predicted to be at least Category 3. We have to go to some place safer,” my brother argued.

“We’ll be fine here Thomas. You’ll see,” Mother replied, not looking up from the quilt she was stitching to distract herself. She was scared. That was obvious despite the way she tried to hide the trembling of her hands.

“You don’t understand Ma!” His voice rose as he continued. “The average elevation of New Orleans is 6 feet below sea level! This house will flood! Please Ma! We really have to go!”

My mother shook her head and forced a pained smile. She keeps thinking that if she stays home and waits for Dad, he’ll some knocking on our front door. Thomas and I know he won’t. We don’t believe in miracles anymore.

It was strange the way Thomas was begging my mother to leave when their roles should be reversed. Wasn’t my mom supposed to be rushing us out of the house ever since the hurricane warnings started, to save herself and her two sons? Instead she sat on the couch creating a quilt, and waiting for a man that would never come.