Dread set in as I feared our decision not to evacuate would have a disastrous ending. The sky had darkened with ominous black clouds and shrouded it like a heavy blanket. The wind shrieked with fury. On the first floor of our home, I watched in horror as shingles and clay tiles were ripped from nearby rooftops and carried through the air, slamming anything in their path. Loud thumps could be heard as boats on lifts in the canal swayed violently with the thrashing and twisting of the water. Peering out the window, all I could see was a bulging blister of churning grey as the water level began to rise and crash over the sea wall. A savage crack of lightning followed by a booming blast caused me to jump and let out a scream. "We are going to die!" Panic was thick in my voice. "We are going to make it through this," my husband said, pulling me close as he tried to comfort me. His caring gesture was nice but did little to ease the pounding in my chest and the anxiety growing in the pit of my stomach. Taking my hand, he led me to the staircase. Seeking the protection of higher ground, we moved to the safety of our second story. The violent wind roared as it continued its savage rampage. This was the just the beginning--the worst of Ian's vicious attack was yet to come.
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