67. Falcon Arrow “Silver Lake” Axehandle Hound [Self-Released]
Moment @ 2:57
There sat floating in the swimming pool a towel which she had last seen neatly folded on the deck chair at the shallow end, though that as well seemed to have blown from its original location, now tipped over in the weeds a ways off. As the towel bobbed back and forth and absorbed water it floated less and sank more. Leaves skittered and danced about the edges, coquettishly playing chicken with the loud sucking filter right around the 5 foot marker. Besides that it was eerily quiet in the backyard - so much so that when the heels of her sandals dragged across the grass she would periodically find herself trying to lift her feet because the noise was grating against the silence. Her suspicions turned out to be founded the closer she got to the now halfway-to-the-bottom beige towel, her body lunging over the side reaching as far as it could without falling in. She looked up as the wind began to whistle above, noticed the funnel cloud forming within the blink of her eye in the neighbor’s yard, and immediately ran faster than she had since she had lettered in track nearly fifteen years prior. She was gone almost instantaneously, but the leaves still bustled, the towel still drooped between the surface and the bottom of the pool, and the deck chair remained toppled over a few feet away.
