Portersville

A flicker of lightning behind a thunderhead then a deep rumble marked the approach of a storm. Selena squeezed the hand of her handsome Greek husband. Together they peered across the vastness of the Gulf of Mexico
while digging their toes into the cool sand. A weathered lighthouse
offshore split the darkness, casting its light across the treacherous waters.
They braced themselves against the wind gusts and pelting rain.
Between lightning strikes, they watched the squall line draw nearer.
A dark tendril reached skyward attaching itself to the cloud above.
The waterspout danced along the outer sandbars then crashed ashore
ripping and tearing before dissipating among the pines and sand dunes.
Only twelve miles to the north, hotels glowed like jewels scattered along the shoreline. Bandstands blasted out music across the bay as vacationers danced under the stars and giant oaks. Children carrying torches and nets squealed
and laughed while chasing crabs in the shallow grass beds. Lovers whispered as they walked along the banks of the bay. Old people sat in the glow of lantern light on their porches reminiscing of times gone by, legends of pirates, fast schooners, floating spirits, and the lost art of voodoo. Lightning on the southern horizon gave warning that the evening was about to change.
Cy and Selena fled Greece to avoid a personal storm and protect their families.
They knew that this same storm could cross the ocean and track them
to Portersville.
Dripping wet and chilled, they vowed never to run again.