Hang on a little longer, Erin.
A mix of bright and deep blue water, abandoned islands, and shipwrecks poking out from sandbars tells me one thing: I am moving north. The Bermuda Triangle is everything it’s known for: mysterious, dangerous, and mystical. While it’s unsettling, I’d rather be here than slamming the US East Coast.
My winds have weakened further, but my field is now twice the size it was in the Caribbean, so I can’t avoid leaving the US entirely unscathed. I’m sure that swells and rip currents from me are already affecting the coast, even though I’m hundreds of miles offshore.
Once I get closer, I’ll take another road trip through my wind field to check on the coastline. But for now, all I can do is rest in my eye and hope that the Bermuda Triangle’s bad luck misses me. Although I probably deserve it for not standing up to Mom when I should have.
I can’t let my thoughts trouble me. I’m going home soon; I just need to get through this final stretch of my journey and stay out at sea. Then I need to tell Mother Nature that I don’t want to be a hurricane Spirit anymore.
How hard can that be?
***
The next few days pass slowly—all I see is open water, but not the so-called whirlpool that’s rumored to haunt the Triangle. So, I leave the Hunters to their work and start my journey toward the US East Coast. I doubt I’ll encounter another cruise ship in these rough waters and tropical-storm-force winds outside my eyewall, but hold on. What’s that on the other side of my spiral?
Those humans! There’s an oil spill. The light blue tropical waters are turning blackish-brown, and the oil is spreading. What on Earth happened here? I don’t see a tanker ship, unless it’s already foundered.
I shouldn’t feel angry—it might have been an accident—but I do. The oil in the ocean is poisoning it and the animals.
Why did I choose to show mercy to humans again?
I want to punch something, but I don’t have hands anymore—only clouds, thunderstorms, and wind.
No, Erin, don’t fall back into your hole. It might have been an accident.
But something deep inside tells me it wasn’t—that the humans betrayed me when I was most vulnerable.
I try to remember the turtles, dolphins, solar panels, Hunters, and the cruise ship. Still, I can’t stop fixating on the oil spill, and the painful memories flood back: the mangled sailor, losing my island, and the traumatized crew member’s face before the wave crushed him.
No, I’m finished. I’m a hurricane—I can’t be tamed, and I can’t stand these humans anymore. They will keep damaging the environment. When I reach the US East Coast, they’re going to pay.
Erin, stop! screams my inner voice, but I push it away and move faster, ready to unleash my blight on the land like Helene before me.
ns216.73.216.174da2
and then Add to home screen.