Excerpt:

Chapter One: The Storm
The wind whipped through the cracks in the windows and beneath the door. Hazel took her blanket off, and crawled across the room over to the biggest cold spot, feeling the damp floor get chillier as she approached the door. She stuffed the blanket in the crack and crawled back to her family, huddled against the opposite wall.
“I don’t think the windows are going to hold much longer,” said her mother. “I wish there had been more warning.” Her teeth were chattering. Hazel rubbed her hands together and placed them against her mother’s jaws.
“Do you think we could cover with something now?” asked her father.
“Like what?” asked her older brother. “There’s nothing that would fit over it. Nothing that we can keep up there.”
Hazel took mental inventory of what was in the room. Tables, chairs, dishes, pots, utensils, food, decorations. This was the main room, used for preparing food and eating and entertainment. Bedrooms branched off of it. The beds were already on their sides, blocking the bottoms of the windows, but nothing more could be done in there. There was a loud rattle and Hazel let go of her mother and ran to the window. The wooden slats were no longer keeping out the rain, and were wet and slippery.
“Hazel, what are you doing?” asked her mother. “Hazel, get back here with us.”
Hazel held the window shut as another gust of wind whined against it. There was a drop on her head. She pointed her face toward the thatched ceiling, only to get another drop in her face.
She let go of the window and ran back to her family, tripping over one of them along the way.
“The roof is leaking,” she said. “If this storm doesn’t stop soon, everything is going to be ruined.”
“It’s all right,” her father said, “It’s all right. Everything that could be permanently damaged is somewhere safe.” He sounded like he was lying. Comforting and reassuring himself more than anyone else.
The store wasn’t secured. Three hours ago, when it looked like just a small storm that would pass quickly, they were all home, and stayed there. When it was clear they couldn’t go outside any more, they hoped for the best. Only then did they start preparing for a storm, when it was far too late to do so. There was no way someone could safely go outside and take care of the store. The weather had only gotten worse.
But it had to be done. Hazel had been waiting; they all had. Waiting that the storm would pass and nothing need be done.
“I’m tired of doing nothing,” Hazel said.
“Don’t!” her mother shouted. But it was too late. Hazel was halfway across the room, jumping over the family member she hadn’t heard get off the floor. She grabbed the already soggy blanket out of the way and draped it over her shoulders and head as she opened the door.
The wind knocked her onto the ground. She splashed into a puddle and chilly water seeped into her knees and down her socks. The door behind her banged open and she turned and grabbed for the bottom of the door, pulling it back toward her. She reached up and grabbed the wooden handle that was splintering under the pressure of the storm and wind. Someone was pulling from the inside, trying to get her back with the family, but with the help of the wind, she pushed the family member back and against the wind, shut the door.
She pulled the blanket back around her head and face and walked down the short path that led to the road. She tripped and again landed in the mud. She reached out to what had caught her ankles. Rough and slippery. It alternately poked her and slimed her. A tree branch with half of the leaves missing.
She kicked it aside and crawled to the road, feeling in front of her. The wind was fiercer than she would have thought from inside the house. Several times she had to stop and dig her fingers into the ground, getting grit underneath her nails, or she felt she would have been blown down to the neighbors’ yard.
A line of rocks, instead of dirt and grass, marked that she was at the road. She crossed it with the same caution, but with many more branches and mud. The cracks of the branches must have been lost within the howl of the wind. She was surprised that she hand’t heard it inside anyway.
Another line of rocks, then only a few more feet and she was at the door or the family store. She only stopped when her head hit the wall. She reached up and stood up and felt along to the right. She felt the edge of the building.
The protective blanket was beginning to feel like a suffocating mud pie, but she didn’t want to expose her face to the driving wind and rain. She moved to the left, side stepping slowly. She reached the door and pushed, tumbled inside, and pushed with all her remaining strength to get it back closed.
Once closed, she whipped the blanket off and shoved it beneath the door. Even thought it had only been open for a few seconds, there was already a pool of water around the door. Hazel willingly sat in it as she leaned against it to catch her breath. It wasn’t like it was going to make much of a difference at this point. And she would have to wait until later to get dry.
She wiped her muddy hands on her shirt and pants, and quickly got as much dirt out from under her nails as was possible. There was a bang as something fell over and she scrambled to find out what it was. She bumped into several jars, without stopping to marvel at the force of the wind that had knocked them over.
She didn’t need to wonder. She soon found the answer. A cold gust told her that there was a breach in the house somewhere. It was coming from behind her, but she couldn’t tell if it was from high or low. She grabbed as many pots as she could, checked for breaks and put them in the center of the room, underneath the table with chairs around it.
She scoured the rest of the room, shutting cabinets again and again, trying to lock whatever she could, but her fingers were quickly getting numb, and she would soon be helpless to do any more.
She stood up and let the wind blow her hair. It was coming from the left. She put her hand up to block the rain and gaged the approximate height. From what she could guess, a corner of the roof had been damaged. She grabbed a chair and dragged it over, thinking of tying the blanket over the hole. First, she had to see how big the hole was.
With one hand on the back of the chair, and another on the failing cabinet closest to the hole, she stepped up onto the chair. The wind grew stronger and was knocking the breath out of her. She let go of the chair and felt up to the ceiling, trying to find the edges of the hole. Before she could find them, she felt a pain in her forehead, a whipping sound, and she lost her balance.
There was another thud, then cold, then nothing.