The morning of May third emerges a bit like a dream for the people of Jack Creek. Though the worst of the weather is gone, the rain persists, hammering down through the fog while residents are roused from sleep by Garett Fordham's morning report.

"Hope everyone managed to stay dry overnight," Garett jokes with a veneered smile. "Let's head over to Lena for the morning traffic report."

Lena Whyte, dressed in a crisp dress that most certainly didn't come from any store in Jack Creek, waits with a pristine smile as the camera pans to her. "Thank you Garett, good to see you fared the storm well. A word of advice to our viewers: due to record-breaking rainfall many of the side streets and residential roads are experiencing some flooding. We should have a more detailed report on the damages as the day continues, so stay tuned folks."

At the hardware store, Boo grows infuriated with waiting. After an entire night of being in the dark, she's anxious to see Martha again. When the howling of the wind dies down to a dull roar, Boo makes her move. Ditching her shoddy blue apron and gathering her stuff, she ignores the advice of her coworkers and braves the waterlogged roads that lead to town.

She tries several times to phone Martha during the drive to make sure she knew to expect Boo's arrival, but every time she calls she's sent straight to voicemail. The phone lines are presumably still down, something to be expected after a storm like Monroe. Boo even tries Lori's phone, but unsurprisingly she doesn't answer. Boo tries to not let herself become too alarmed at the lack of communication.

Coming up on the edge of town, she begins to see the true depth of Monroe's damage. Power lines are downed, trees snapped in half and laying across roads, and dozens of houses are missing windows and roofs. Debris is scattered across every inch of the ground, decorating the earth with mosaics of wreckage. Her car crawls across the flooded streets, her hands shaking as she takes in the chaos around her. The majority of Jack Creek seems to lay in ruins.

The only moment she dares touch her gas pedal for more than a split second is when she rounds the sharp turn at the bottom of the hill where Martha's house is. At the top of the hill, almost a mile up the road, she can see a flurry of police lights shimmering through the rain.

And, in a heart-stopping turn of events, no sight of Nana's house.

Boo speeds up the road and comes to a screeching stop just beyond the threshold of yellow police tape flapping in the morning breeze. Police cars line nearly half the street as dozens of officers walk around the nearby houses, knocking on doors and checking on residents. The entire neighborhood seems to be milling about outside, unperturbed by the continuous rain. Even H. Styles has finally left his house; Boo can see his tall figure puttering about in his front yard, his long curls fluttering in the breezy rain. She steps out of the car to join the mayhem around Martha's house and is immediately horrified at the scene.

The hurricane had done more damage than she predicted. Built more than eighty years prior, Nana's house had withstood everything: tropical storms, two housing market crashes, and decades of pesky neighbors. But Monroe had gotten the best of it. Not only is the house a destroyed mess, it's been almost completely ripped from the foundation. All that remains behind is a sprawling pile of debris and a few flimsy walls left standing. The rest of the house undoubtedly lays at the bottom of the cliff.

Tears spark in Boo's eyes. She stumbles forward, fighting through the drizzling rain and the slow crowd of people walking around. The nearest officer catches sight of her ducking under the yellow tape and makes her way over.

"Sorry, ma'am, this is a closed scene," the officer says, her hands outstretched to usher Boo away.

"This is my house," Boo cries, shying away from her reach. Looking around the rubble sends physical pains shooting through her chest. Years of memories sit before her, littered across the ground in dirty fragments. Shattered picture frames, tattered clothes, smashed dishes, splintered wood - the entire house lies in ruins.

On top of a nearby pile of shattered laminate counter is the house phone, snapped in half. The cord sits a few feet away, nothing more than a tangled mess of wires.

"Oh God," Boo gasps, lips beginning to tremble. Hot tears spring from her eyes, mixing in with the rain beading on her skin.

Where's Nana?

Her muddy boots push through the debris. She spots more officers lingering around the opposite end of the property, near the cliff in Nana's backyard. Boo stumbles forward, her vision blurred by her tears and the rain. She tries to find someone to talk to - a neighbor, a policeman, anyone, but the neighborhood seems to be preoccupied with tending to their own properties.

"Hey!" Boo cries, waving her arms to get someone's attention. Two other officers turn around and begin to edge their way over.

"Wh-what's going on here?" Boo asks, trying not to cry. "Where's my grandmother?"

The officers exchange grimaces. One reaches out to sneakily turn Boo around but she cowers away from him too. "Listen, Miss-"

"Please, just tell me where she is," Boo begs, glancing desperately around the street.

"You live here, right?" the other officer says. Boo nods, rolling her lips together. "Would you mind coming down to the station with us?"

"What, why?"

The officers share another look between themselves and Boo's heart plummets into the rubble. She doesn't have to be told what that look means.

"No," she says quietly, breathlessly. "No, it can't -"

It isn't true, she isn't here. She's back in her apartment, unpacking boxes and laughing over breakfast with Martha; she's still at the hardware store, reminiscing with Luke and Tanya and Michael; she's anywhere except standing in the smattered remnants of a house that used to be a home, doing anything except praying that the one person she needs most isn't dead.

"I'm sorry, Miss, we need someone to positively identify the body -"

"No!" Boo shrieks, her grief knocking her off balance and into the arms of the closest officer. "No, she can't be gone!"

The officer does his best to hold her steady but Boo is flooded with an uncontrollable panic. She fights against his grip, trying desperately to get away, to get anywhere.

"Where is she?" she sobs, each shove growing weaker.

"They're moving the body now," the officer says, arms still around her. "There are others. You'll have to identify her."

"She - I -" Boo gasps for words, fights for air, but it's like the atmosphere around her is thinning. "I need to s-see her."

The officer starts to pull her away from the house, away from where Martha's body must be. Her vigor reignites and she tries to shove the cop off her. He fights back, muttering something to the other officer about a 10-15.

"No!" she sobs, fighting against their hold. "She's here, I can't leave her! Please, I can't!"

The air rips from her throat and she feels her feet leave the ground; her limbs flail as she kicks and punches at nothing - at the rain, at the air. She's dragged away from the rubble, her eyes never leaving the destroyed house as she continues to scream and cry in protest. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches the briefest glimpse of a tall man with long brown curls quickly approaching what used to be Martha's house, but he's gone as soon as he appeared.

"I can't leave her!"

hey yall! hows it going? i'm currently in a hotel for the night, i'm flying home to texas tomorrow :) gonna do my best to update while i'm home but no promises.

anyhow, are any of you participating in spooky week this year? i can't wait to read everything yall come up with :D