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     I remember when the 1926 Great 

Miami Hurricane struck. People said I 

was very courageous, brave, and

fearless for being nine. There were

a few things I was scared of though:

dangerous animals for one, but the

things I were most scared of were   

disasters.

     Anyway, I was already in bed and it

was about 10:30 p.m. when our radio 

started blaring out the words,

"Hurricane Warning! Hurricane 

Warning!" My parents and I barely had 

any time to get to the attic. Then, our 

radio started blaring out words again,

only this time the words were,

"Category Four! Category Four!" All

of us panicked. We had no idea what to 

do. To make matters worse, we had just

realized that we had forgotten our                  

emergency kit on the main floor! I said I 

would grab it. As I fought my way

downstairs and through the debris, I saw

our emergency kit being carried away by 

the petrifying floodwater like a feather. 

When I finally got back up to the attic, 

my parents were so happy that I got back

safely that they didn't notice the fact that

I came back the same way I had left, 

empty-handed. Once they did notice, they 

said, "Honey, didn't you find the kit?"

     "No," I told them how I saw the kit 

being carried away, watched it helplessly

until it was just a red speck in all of the 

black and brown, and how I marched back 

upstairs to them. Just then, we all heard a 

loud thump.  

     "Oh, that is very depressing." 

     "At least we have the radio!" I perked

up. We kept on listening to the radio

until it said, "The storm has passed." 

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