(Written for the Hella Bad Weather Photo Prompt contest for the Bookshop profile)

Ask anyone in Baxter County about "The Tornado" and they won't ask which one. No, they'll just launch into whatever version has been passed down through their family for nearly one hundred years. Considering most of them are bible-thumping Baptists, you'll likely hear lots of mention of evil and the devil.

All the stories, no matter where they end up, start the same. And they all involve one central character:  Beatrix Elizabeth Black.

Yours truly.

You see, I was born on the day of "The Tornado". To be more accurate, I was born during the damn thing. October 30th of 1918 was an unseasonably warm fall day with sunny blue skies and wispy high clouds. There was absolutely no sign of what was to come. Well, unless you count a few of the more loud-mouthed bitches in town. They'd say the storm was due to the fact that my momma was a witch who fornicated with Satan himself, and I was literally the spawn of the devil. 

Wouldn't they love to know that they were at least partially right. Momma was from a long line of women with certain... knowledge... of the way nature and the earth's forces worked. The suspicions about her family went back generations due to the healing powers they had, as well as how they could predict weather and catastrophe. 

And of course, the fuel on the fire was the fact that Momma was incredibly beautiful as well as the first woman in our county to earn a bachelor's degree. When she returned from college, she married my daddy, who was the favorite son of the founding family of Baxter County. Now, Momma was not only beautiful and intelligent, she was bonafide. 

Daddy, of course, was oblivious to all the talk. He had been in love with Momma since the day they were 14 years old and Momma corrected the teacher on Einstein's Theory of Relativity. Until the day he died he said the primary reason he married Momma was for her discourse ability, and her beauty was just the cherry on top. 

The day of my birth, as I was saying, Momma was in her greenhouse -- tending her herbs -- when her water broke. Wracked with pain, she left little shed to head into the main house. In minutes, the skies had become angry and dark, dumping sheets of rain just as she made it to the porch. Daddy was reading and immediately jumped to action by running next door to get his sister Nadine.

By the time Daddy made it home with his sister Nadine in tow, there was hail hitting the roof, making it sound as if Armageddon was imminent. 

Nadine was a mid-wife and took to making Momma comfortable and trying to get the labor to slow down some in order to not damage her or me. She lit a bundle of herbs that Momma had prepared for just this moment. Between the soothing herbs and her exhaustion, Momma fell asleep within minutes.

Just as quickly, the hail and rain stopped. The late afternoon sky turned a beautiful golden hue and the winds died to a gentle, leaf ruffling breeze. Some tellings of the story  even claim a rainbow appeared in the sky over Devil Horn mountain. I can't say one way or another if that's true.

This peace lasted until shortly before midnight. Just like before, the labor hit hard and fast, while at the same time the wind started to howl and an intense thunderstorm rolled in. Nadine had to yell her instructions to be heard over the racket of the shutters slamming open and closed. Daddy sat behind Momma on the bed, letting her squeeze his hands until he was sure the bones would shatter. All the while, the house shook and the windows rattled and still, Momma's agonized screams could be heard over it all.

And then, eighteen minutes into All Hallow's Eve, I made my entrance to the world. The winds died and the lightning stopped as I was wrapped into a towel and laid into my momma's arms. We gazed at one another and even as a tiny babe, I took comfort in her touch and understanding eyes.

But then I was pulled away from her to be examined and cleaned and in that very minute, without warning and with no mercy, "The Tornado" dropped out of the sky and ripped across Baxter County leaving utter destruction upon the landscape and the town itself. It behaved in a way that no one had ever seen before — staying on the ground even over the hills, tearing across the river, even changing directions as it made it way towards the big, blue house on Main Street.

The inhabitants of that house froze at what sounded like a steam engine barreling towards them, until Daddy had the sense to grab me and fold me into a safe space between him and Momma's chest.

They say that the rhythm of a mother's heart is a lullaby to a newborn. Whether exaggerated or not, Nadine swore until her dying day that as soon as I touched Momma my eyes closed and a smile lifted my lips. The roaring stopped and the house quit shaking.

We've never had another storm quite like that one. I know it won't be the last, though. 

Now, some of the stories that lay the blame for that storm at Momma's feet attribute the fact that we've not had another to her not having more children. Other stories will tell you that I brought that storm. They say the Devil himself rode that tornado into town to witness my birth.

Momma was the best teacher I could have asked for when it came to controlling my emotions in face of the rumors and whispered gossip. She also taught me to pick up on the subtleties of atmospheric changes and how those changes mirrored my mood. She just wasn't ever clear on which was the cause and which was the effect.

Over time, I realized the power I held — both real and imagined. Just the fact that some believed I was spawned from a supernatural being gave me a certain control. I must admit I played it up. I mean, what kid wouldn't have fun scaring little miss perfect Jenny Green on the playground? I used to tell her that if she didn't quit being mean to poor little Jimmy Taylor, I'd get my daddy to flood their crops again. My real daddy, I'd say with a death stare.

Good times.

The only thing about it was that the Green family land did seem to flood. A lot. Especially when her and I fought. And then there was Mrs. Beasley, whose house was struck by lightening and burnt down the day I overheard her call Momma a "whore in fine clothing". Oh, and Samuel Jones, who was swept under a freak landslide the morning after he tried to force himself on me after the church social.

Freak accidents?

To be honest, for a long time I didn't care one way or another. This ability did more good than bad; Baxter County was blessed with steady amounts of rain, no droughts, just the right amount of snow fall, and fairly moderate temperatures. The townsfolk, whether they admitted it or not, began to see me as a good "witch" and the talk of Satan loving — or hating — me died away.

What do I believe? That may be the question you're asking yourself. Was my momma a witch? Was I born with some sinister set of powers? Well, I was born on the day of the year when the veil between Hell and Earth is thinnest — during a tornado that killed and destroyed. I used to think I just had some sort of sensitivity to shifts in the atmosphere. Now though, I have a much better understanding. 

Somewhere around my fortieth birthday I went into a severe depression with overwhelming feelings of an internal struggle... over something I couldn't even name. That's when Momma told me about a spell she'd performed, sort of a deal that kept one pregnancy from taking hold, while allowing another to happen. There had been unexpected side effects, one had allowed the spirits of those trapped in purgatory to become aware of a way out. The other was that the soul born as a result of this deal was the bridge they needed to cross.  

She cried while holding my hands in hers, admitting that she knew there'd be consequences, but her desire to deliver a healthy baby had been strong enough to risk it. She asked for forgiveness which was unnecessary, as my life wasn't exactly a nightmare. I just was looking for understanding and a root cause.

That night I dreamed that I was standing on top of a towering, snow-capped mountain. On one side was a lush valley with vibrant green grass, tall trees, and a multitude of wildlife roaming the landscape. On the other was a dirt plateau, wide and desolate, devoid of any living thing. The atmosphere seemed so delicate that a strong breeze would reduce it to ashes, and yet there was a constant swirling wind, thick with red dust. 

As I stood looking between the two, a large fissure opened beneath my feet and began widening. I wanted to be on the verdant side and was just about to step over when I heard my name being whispered. From out of the swirling dust storm, many figures stepped forward. They were the women from my family line, my momma and granny, along with those that came before them.

They were asking me to save them... bring them with me, but I didn't know how to reach them without losing the opportunity to stay in the right side of the mountain.

I awoke frustrated and sad. So I set out to get stronger. For sixty years I've practiced and studied.

Did it work?

I'll find out soon — tonight actually, because while my spirit has never been stronger, my body is weakening by the second. It's served me well, and I more than fulfilled Momma's bargain that I live a long and healthy life. At eighteen minutes past midnight this All Hallow's Eve, I'll be exactly one hundred years old.

—————————-

From my deathbed, I listen to the modern tornado warning sirens fade as I find myself standing with one foot on either side of the fissure. I hold my hands out to the sides and throw my head back, summoning every ounce of strength I can. I feel the wind pick up on the plateau and bits of dust and sand swirl... faster, faster... and faster still.

Voices rise and fall and I hear my name on the lips of my ancestors. They step out of the murk and Momma is there, holding my hand, creating a chain. My power swells and the wind howls louder... stronger... darker.

An impossible roar screams and I know it's him. He's angry because I figured out how to beat him, how to use the power to fill the break between the two sides. The desolation is being pulled to me, filling the cavern, allowing those in purgatory to cross over.

I feel the very fabric of my world shaking and rumbling. Just a few more seconds and it'll be done. I just need to keep the breath in my lungs long enough for the crack to seal. 

Just a few... more...

As the roof is torn off my house and the last breath is sucked from my body, I grin. It seems the old wives were right all those years ago, after all. It was the Devil himself riding that tornado.

And boy, he's really... really... pissed.