The Flood

Yeah, I was living here in the flood of ’71. I lived in a house with a basement then. The whole basement, clear up to the ceiling, filled with muddy water. It was awful. We hauled buckets of mud out of there. Then we had to tear out all the walls because of the mold. It was awful. You know, you can’t ever get that smell out. It was awful.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “the flood.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

9 thoughts on “The Flood”

  1. The basement floods every time it rains. Doesn’t matter if it’s a drizzle or a downpour, the carpet down there’s gonna stink for days afterward. And because YOU had to put carpet where it floods when it rains, the basement never really dries out. Not totally. It’s damp and moldy, and that SMELL…truly disgusting.

  2. I was only fifteen the year that the flood that damaged so many towns in the northeast made history. My English teacher had asked if I would be willing to spend the summer keeping her company in her country home in upstate New York. Her husband would spend weekends there when he wasn’t working and she liked having someone with her during the week. They had a beautiful old collie. His name was Bard. After doing a few chores at the house Bard and I would walk down the quiet country road to a stream for a swim. It was a beautiful peaceful spot and a very welcome respite from the summer humidity. I loved spending time there. When the torrential rains arrived it was pretty frightening. Before it became too bad with water covering the roads, Bard and I took a walk to our favorite gentle stream to see how it was doing. We stayed on the overpass looking down. I will never forget the power and surge of that water. It was a wild thing. Very high and uncontrollable. Completely dangerous. Uprooted trees were barreling down the muddy brown wild water. Bard and I hustled back up to the house post haste. That was the first time I ever experienced something in nature that could change so swiftly. I had always loved the outdoors but now I learned to highly respect Mother Nature.

  3. And what was even more awful was that the flood took my whole family with it. All of them washed away. Even the dog. Their bodies were found individually, a few days apart. Janie, my youngest daughter, was the first found. I found her in the backyard, on the roof of her tree house. It was awful. The next day, they found my wife, Sandy, down the block, in a ditch. It was awful.

  4. Compared to other floods, the ones that Chicagoland experienced over the past 40 years have been., in legal terms, de minimis. However the ones in the ’80’s and soon afterwards were called “The Hundred Year Floods.” In order to alleviate this and to somewhat accommodate the excess amount of water the swollen upstream rivers were sending toward the metropolis the Deep Tunnel project was dreamed up and executed over several years. Now floods occur and ruin people’s homes but not as many and not as bad.

    With the certainty of climate change together with the certainty of drowning of whole portions of USA’s East Coast my inclination would be to get myself out of Dodge and the sooner the better. Question from a different perspective: was the recent deadly flood another canary in the mineshaft to which we should be attentive? Was deforestation in favor of big mining industries partly to blame? Or could mountaintop removal by mining interests involved? Floods will occur but will humanity use a bit of foresight and integrity to lessen their impact a bit in the future?

  5. In shock, I watched the turbulent water within the canal overflow its banks and flood the city streets. The force of the water as it raged onward tore away the cement sidings taking away the dirt and debris with it as the torrent of water made its way to the beach where it would end. The day after the flood of 1994 in the debris at the beach I found a small Coca-Cola bottle. It reads, “Bottled in Santa Barbara, California 1929.” For Sixty-Five years the bottle had been encased in by the cement. Now being 2016 my small reminder of the great flood is now Eighty-Seven years old and is one of my prized possessions.

  6. The floods came every year.
    With unfailing regularity.
    The monsoons would arrive , and it would begin pouring in this small coastal town . The oldies of the village would tell of strange tales, wherein it rained fish , or frogs or such fantastic things . I , myself never witnessed any of these, but yes , I remember the rains brought in small fry . Millions of them . Swishing amid the reeds , getting caught in the storm drain filters and gliding in and out of the rice stalks, now barely shin height.

    Even as the young folks prepared makeshift bamboo fish lines to catch the bounty, the elders would prepare to leave .The arrival of the baby fish from nowhere meant we needed to go. Valuables and meagre possessions would be placed on shelves high up, near the ceiling, important documents wrapped up in plastic sheets , tin boxes full of perishables,packed days ago in readiness.

    Then it would come . One evening of torrential rain , merging into inky blackness of a calamitous night. Waters, till then gently lapping the edges of rice fields, would, like a raging goddess, turn into a frothy, churning,surging, massive destroyer. The waters inside the huts swiftly,within hours , rose to armpit levels, bringing goodness-knows-what-with-it.Cattle would have been rounded up and taken up , in advance , before us.

    My uncle routinely plucked snakes when they nestled between his toes and tickled his bare sole. He would laughingly wave green,writhing, harmless tree snakes , into our shrieking faces,before chucking them away into some distance . Once , legend has it , he found a cobra , whom he carefully put into the y-fork of a passing uprooted eucalyptus,so that it doesn’t bite any one “Out of sheer fear”.

  7. There is that awful flood in the basement when the Spring rains came each year. I can almost anticipate preparing the sump pump for it a annual prime. Then comes this horrendous flood out of nowhere, that no one e could have anticipated, taking with it many lives of our neighbors in West Virginia. Gone are the days I complain about water in the basement as I listen to the life stories of the flood victims.

  8. It was just turning dusk as our car climbed the green mountains between Northern Vermont and the Canadian boarder. It had been raining all day and fog was quickly descending on the road in front of us. When all of a sudden we could see what looked like hundreds of small to medium stones tossed everywhere in the road. We could not avoid driving over them and as we did they made a croaking noise. It was then we determined we were running over hundreds toads and frogs. That lasted 5 miles and by now night was falling . No sooner taking a breather from this experience when our headlights beamed upon swarms of gnats hitting all over the car windows. Visibility was zero.

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