Thunder Beneath My Feet

Betsy walked slowly toward the edge of the bluff. A tall woman in a patched skirt stood there. An old shawl covered her head and shoulders. She carried a brown blanket tied into a bundle in her dark-skinned left hand. Betsy gasped as the river came into view. Hundreds of trees and branches bobbed in the water. Two unmanned flatboats and an empty canoe floated toward the port. Below her some of the buildings had slid into the water. Or had the river come to get them? She heard the warning thunder. "Betsy! Get back," Rabbit shouted from down the street. "Run, Betsy, run!"