The Destruction of the Town

It was a flood, and the most terrific I have ever heard of, for as I stood there gazing at this horrible thing which seemed to cleave the darkness sufficiently for one to see with reasonable distinctness, houses on either side of the creek toppled and fell inward, as if the underpinnings had suddenly given way. The horror swept on its way with a thundering roar, amid which one could hear the crash of falling timbers. I believed that the Last Day was at hand, and that we were to be called to Judgment.

I was so overwhelmed that it was impossible for me to stir a finger, watching that scene of destruction with a fear that clutched at my heart, for I remembered that within those buildings which were toppled here and there like houses of cards the children build, there were many human beings who, not forewarned as I had been, might slumber on until overtaken by this monstrous mountain of water.

The flood came surging up into the very shop, and still I stood stupidly on the threshold knee-deep in water. Even though I realized that the peril was great,—for no one could say how much higher this tide might rise,—my half-dazed mind kept revolving the one question, "How could it all have come about?"

There had been no storm in our vicinity, so far as I knew, yet something must have elsewhere, otherwise why were we being thus engulfed?

Until the water had risen nearly waist high, and was pouring into the building with such force that the doors of the shop were wrenched from their hinges, I stood motionless on the threshold as if my wits had left me, and truly it was so for the time being.