Ruskin Heights Tornado 1957

All posts tagged Ruskin Heights Tornado 1957

Weekend Writing Prompt – Eerie

Published May 23, 2021 by rochellewisoff

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.

The Ruskin Heights tornado claimed 44 lives and injured 531 more on May 20, 1957.

Although I wasn’t quite four, I will never forget the eerie yellow-green sky or thick hush the day a tornado demolished a nearby community.

6 September 2013

Published September 4, 2013 by rochellewisoff

WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. 

As always, writers are encouraged to be as innovative as possible with the prompt and 100 word constraints. 

Henry David Thoreau said it best.

“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”

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Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)

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Make every word count.

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In celebration of my big birthday which is happening as this page goes live, I chose one of my own photos. Lots to see and write about here. My response time will probably be pretty slow this week since I’ll be on vacation (on holiday for all our UK friends 😉 ). Also  Yom Huledet Samayach to Randy Mazie who shares the same birthday. 

On Monday, 20 May 1957, an F5 tornado leveled Ruskin Heights, a suburb of Kansas City, MO. Thankfully our subdivision, although fairly close,  was not effected. However, impressions of the day still remain.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

UNDER THE RAINBOW

            One Monday afternoon in 1957, four-and-a-half-year-old Glinda filled glass creamers in Daddy’s restaurant. If there were enough, Mommy let her save one for Spike.

            A customer pointed to the window. “Twister weather.”

            Outside the sky had turned greenish-yellow.

            “Take cover!” cried the voice on the radio. “Touch-down. Ruskin Heights.”

             “Daddy… Spike?”

              Later he turned into their debris-strewn, houseless driveway. Mommy shook her head. “Poor Spike, I’m afraid he’s…”

            “No!” Glinda sprang from the car, ran to a pile, dropped down and held out the creamer. “Here kitty.”

            With a loud meow, Spike peeked out, purred and hungrily lapped the cream.  

Ruskin Heights Kitty

old creamerI really did fill creamers at my dad’s restaurant “Bob’s Place”. This may be the pitcher I used.  

 

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