I was lucky; I caught the storm warning in advance this time. I tried to make preparations but it was difficult without knowing exactly which day it would hit. I had recently acquired a 1 litre plastic bottle, which I filled with juice and regularly topped up, so I knew I wouldn’t go thirsty. My bathroom water, though not the best, should also be drinkable if I should run out. I worried more about food. I could eat more food earlier in the day but by nightfall I’d surely be starving. Then I remembered that, due to not having the space for them in my fridge or cupboard, I did have a bag of potatoes in my room. Fearing my commitment to eating them solid, I decided I needed to get more supplies. The woman in the shop looked surprised by the mass of snacks I purchased, unaware of the oncoming disaster. I returned home, and I waited.
It happened. It shook the whole flat. The noise was louder than anything I ever heard. I hid under my desk with headphones plugged into my laptop, still trying to get work done despite the storm outside. The lights went off a couple of times. I managed to speak to my mother on the phone; I told her I loved her. Eventually, I tried to get some sleep. It was difficult to drown out the sound of screams, but I managed after an hour or so.
When I awoke it seemed to be over. Things were quiet outside. I decided to risk leaving the safety of my room. There was a terrible mess in the flat, bodies everywhere, but I had survived.
I really hate it when my flatmates have parties.