The Roof

Last fall (2004), I attended a required workshop for school called Lit 101 and we had to do a short story. We had to write for a period of time without stopping.  This is still a work in progress but I decided to post what I have so far.  I'll eventually go back and work on it again. :o)

I had a sinking feeling that day as I walked down to the west end of our local mall.  Looking up at the huge sky windows, I saw the storm rolling in.  I rushed home just as the lightning began to crack against the sky and the winds picked up.  I remember asking God to please let me make it through this storm without incident.

You see, my neighbors and I were having our roof re-done and due to a bad decision,  we hired an incompetent roofer.  It had been over a month since he removed our shingles and the only thing protecting my roof was a thin layer of tar paper that was lightly attached with small plastic roofing nails.

I was afraid. I had seen my neighbors garage just a few weeks before when the last rain storm had come through.  The hole caused from the water damage covered half of the ceiling and gone were family memoirs that had been packed in boxes below.

Then it happened.  I watched as the gusts of wind whipped through the trees behind the house, hoping that the tar paper would stay in place yet knowing that the chances were slim.  My fears were suddenly realized as the rain that hit the roof began to seep down into my home. Right before my eyes, water began to pour out of the light fixture in the center of my kitchen on the bottom floor of my home.  I ran upstairs to see where the water was coming from. I could hear the rain coming down inside my bedroom closet, its water pressure better than what I'd had in my shower that morning.  I was powerless to stop it.

I ran back downstairs to the kitchen and frantically grabbed as many pots and pans that I could find.  I worked quickly to set them up in all of the places the water had found it's way through to.  I rushed to my laundry room and pulled towels and blankets out of the baskets and threw them on the floor.

My next thought was of the garage.  As I opened the door I stood in horror.  The majority of my ceiling had fallen and a large section of plaster was hanging by a thread, ready to take aim on the hood of my Jeep.  I held my breath as I pushed the garage door opener for fear it wouldn't open.  It did.  The rain was pouring harder as I looked out into the driveway only to see several obstacles in my way. My heart pounded as I jumped in the car and moved it just far enough out to allow the open door to protect it from falling debris.  Realizing this was all I could do, I ran back into the house.

Buckets, bowls, and towels everywhere, I  could only think about calling the roofer.  In a frantic state, I found his number and dialed it.  As he answered I screamed at him as I explained how my home was falling apart because of his errors and that I was powerless to stop it.  He assured me that he was on his way, as did my mother who had thought I was being attacked when I first called her.  In my mind I was, by the water.

As the rain stopped and the water coming from my ceiling slowly came to a dull drip, I looked down at my little dog who sat beside me on the floor.  He was soaked from head to toe. I had no more towels left to dry him as they all lay on the floor, wet and gushy with pieces of plaster stuck like glue to the terry fabric.  For a moment I had to laugh. He didn't seem bothered by the water that had infiltrated our home. He just stared up at the maniac that his owner had become, tilting his head slightly left, and then right.

Of course, this is a true story. It happened on July 3, 2004. Everything was repaired....good as new, if not better.  But...I ended up selling the house to a guy I use to work with.