1 post tagged “mother nature”

What is the scariest experience you've had with Mother Nature?
Submitted by jacolily.

Not exactly the scariest with Mother Nature. It was more along the lines of the scariest encounter with a Greek millionaire. You see, I was literally thrown off of this boat because I didn't want to be romanced by this man who I really didn't know at all. And, ended up on a beach which happened to be owned by some Greeks. I didn't see them at first. My clothes were missing and I wondered down stairs wrapped in a pink sheet. The whole room was in pink. Pink wall paper, pink satin sheets, pink pillows, pink, pink, pink with a sprinkle of pure white here and there. With pink sheet in hand and around body I made it down the long stair case. I hadn't planned on going down. I had waited politely and waited and waited. No one came. So, after two days I took the risk of wondering down to the lower level. My mother, Elsie, had taught me never to snoop. If I had wanted milk from her refrigerator I was to ask. "What are you doing?" "Looking for milk." "Did I say you could go into my refrigerator?"
If I had wanted a pen I was to ask. "What are you doing?" "Looking for a pen to write a list of groceries." "Did I say that you could look for a pen?" She was going to put an end to my Palace snooping once and for all with well defined new rules. Thus, I sat down at the bottom of the stairs and waited. No one had asked me down. No one had sent an invitation down. It was not as great a hall as a palace but it did hold the air of money which meant that the owners mite have similair frame of mind as Elsie Wigle. I waited and  toward evening I finally dozed off. Latrin duty called and back up the stairs I trudged to the pink room.  I sat knowing that it would be improper for me to open the closet door or to wonder what was in the drawers. After all, a large room like this just mite have security cameras. Or ghosts. Why tempt the Devil into berating me for sinning by sending an evil spirit to help me? Eventually I gave way to more sleep.
In the morning a sheet of paper had been slid under the door which read, "Please come down for breakfast in the dining hall at eight o'clock. Don't be late."
With pink sheet wrapped around me ever so tightly I ventured down. They must have meant for me to open the doors one after the other so I could find the dining room. Finally, a long dark dining table bragging about a dozen hard chairs sat by itself with a fresh plate of toast, eggs and ham. But, no people. "Oh, I've been down this road before," I whispered to myself through tight lips. Off I went to find the cook. There was no cook. Now I snooped, after all, I was told to come down and eat. My hands gripped the can opener and I ate to my delight green peas and helped myself to clear water from the tap. I found a piece of paper and wrote down the estimated cost of the can of peas so that no one could accuse me of stealing and once I found my clothes I would be off. The money would be sent by mail.
Suddenly, for just a few moments I thought I heard crying. And, the sound seem to come from down into a darker celler. "Hello?" I called out several times. When no one returned my hello...I slowly went down the steps trying hard not to trip over the sheet as it wound itself around my legs like Sweetpie. "Hello?" There was no one down there. It was rather foolish of me because a ghost could have surely closed the door on me.
The walls of the cellar were that of a soft brown beige coloured brick...very old. The cellar was not impressive but rather small perhaps just for the cook. Obviously, there must be a larger cellar somewhere else but I do not snoop. The wine rack itself was rather small and held less than fifty bottles. Each bottle had a note attached to it reading like, "blood of Mr. Smith," "blood of Mr. Jones", whatever. I gulped. And, I thought for the longest while...should I just go upstairs and leave by the front door. I turned and yet...I couldn't just leave. What if it really was human blood in the wine bottles? Shouldn't I say something? Would God turn his back on me if I did not correct the person? Twenty-one is such a ridiculous age of uncertainties. What would Jesus do? Pen and paper in hand I wrote a note of my own based upon a Bible scripture which reads something like, "thou shall not eat blood of any kind". I collected all the bottles up with me and hoisted them up into the kitchen before proceeding out to the beach where I emptied all the bottles into the ocean's water. Then, I saw her. A magnificent creature had become curious to the smell. I had never seen a whale before. She was breathless and my heart was just beating wildly. The wind was tossing my hair about and the water was rushing back and forth around the skirt of the sheet turning the pink a little brighter.
After spending a few more hours on the beach I finally went back to face my host be he a man or a woman. It was so quiet but someone had to have been there. I added to my kitchen note the cost of each bottle if purchased from a restaurant, "the cost of the blood I will not include...Jesus already paid for it." Was it real blood or was it just a word similair to "sange" or "blood of the vine" not "blood of the vein"???
I waited and waited once more before retiring back to the bedroom. Someone had been in the room while I was on the beach and left a note, "try the perfumes in the bathroom and tell me which one you especially like". Oh, this was going to be a wonderful day. I tried them all and found one especially intriging. I write a note in return and left it outside the bedroom door. The next morning I was greeted with a new note which read, "that was because it was made with my mother's urine."
Perhaps I really should have dined the man on the boat or whatever but I wasn't in to whatever. I was into Jesus and his whatever which wasn't on the earth and did not include pink sheets, bottles of sange, and perfume with mother's urine. I wondered around the grounds and realized that I was on an island. There was not going to be a walk down a dusty road where I could barter for clothes by washing floors. Returning to the foyer I sat for what seemed forever. Upstairs a note waited for me, "please go into the library and pick out some books. Tell me which ones you prefer." Oh that was something I could do if I had glasses but I did want to go into the library with it's walls of books and just sit at the very expensive executive desk not as old as the desk of King George but very impressive. He smokes cigars. Cuban cigars. I finally had something I could do with my time, look at the pictures in books and smoke a cigar. I had not been invited to browse through the clothes in the pink closet so I did not open it up. The sheet I had worn out to the beach was rather marked up with sand and ocean water and I had to use the bottom sheet for the rest of my stay but this time someone had thoughtfully placed a beautiful dark pink evening gown across the freshly made up bed and an invitation to come down at nine o'clock for a party.  Party? Will Jesus be there? I tiptoed around and could hear  the sound of voices as the evening progressed. There were all sorts of men arriving...very well dressed men. Was I the only girl? I knew that there had to be one other girl. I heard her crying or maybe it was just a ghost. No, she was real. I looked out the window bedroom and from where I stood I could see the whale still watching...still sniffing at the wind. I climbed over the side and scooted down to the bottom with the evening dress on leaving the perfect size nine shoes behind. How did he or she know my size? I started off walking on my toes slowly, picked up speed and lifted up my dress as men who may have been bodyguards started to chase me up the rock. The rock went up and up to a small cliff and I tried climbing down but eventually the green slime just slid me right into the ocean water. I went straight for the whale. I would rather die in her teeth, inside her stomache, than to be the only woman at a party. I don't even want a one man party and I stopped counting after twenty. I went for her tail and tried to pull myself up but her back was wet and I kept slipping. I slapped her back like a whale baby and did she not hoist her tail up and rolled me up onto her back. The sound of a helicopter set her off and she road down the coast quite pleasantly until the helicopter went back. I can't even remember where it was that we finally ended. A book would be written called The Whalerider. I can't remember who wrote it but I went to the Marinetimes in Canada in May 1968 to study whales. I had already done part of a course at a university prior to that summer and had wanted to study biology but for many reasons dropped out. I didn't jump off of the whale's back. I waited till she was looking at something and I just sort of leaned over and fell in hoping that she wouldn't feel my feet muscles as I fell into the water. A young man was watching from the shore by the name of Erich Seigel the second. There were three Erich Seigels, weren't there? I made a very impressive entrance to the shore greeted by "isn't that a Dior dress?" "No darling...that is..." "Very expensive taste."  . "Didn't Jackie Onassis have a dress just like that?" "I wouldn't know.
I headed for the bank. Squish! Squish! Drip! Drip! I asked to speak to the bank manager and he answered my questions politely as he watched the water drops sliding down my cheeks. "I need to use your telephone to call my father to ask him to send some money for me to your bank. Can I do that?" "It is very unusual," he said shyly in his broken Spanish, "but if your father sends money, we will be sure to give it to you. It make take several days." I smiled thankfully and squished my way back to the bathingsuits. "Would you like to buy my dress?" It wasn't ruin. Not really. It had only been wet for an evening, a morning, a day. "And, I don't want a lot?"
With money in hand I bought myself the cheapest top and skirt to be had, said a prayer, and boldly asked as best I could, "Your bathroom floor is very dirty, would you give me a sandwich and coffee if I cleaned it?" And, the kitchen, and the men's room and the dining room. I made a call to a helicopter pilot that worked on and off for Twentieth Century Fox and did he not come and fetch me. Papers and visas can be such nasty business. But, helicopters and whales, nothing can compare.
I opened a piece of paper that I had carried in my mouth which merely stated, "can you please call this number for me" Jackie. A man answered, "how did you get this number?" "It was slid under the door to me." What a lot of fuss for no reason!?! Was the phone number to a CIA man? I don't know. "Don't scream at me." I hung the phone up. I did my good deed. No leave me alone to find food.
And, that is my scariest moment with Mother Nature.
Well, not entirely....there was the making of the volcano movie...Dante's Peak. I can't say that was scary just dusty. And, then there was going up a mountain  in the fall of 67 and it snowed or was that a volcano thing? Well, there was snow and I left quickly by sled. And then there was Eiger Mountain with Clint Eastwood. That wasn't scary but I did fall. I don't think Mother Nature scares me. Jesus is in there somewhere. People scare me. Buffalo and whales don't scare me nor wolves. Men scare me. Women scare me.