by Marilyn Alexiuk, English 12, Mrs. Didrikson

It was the second to last Sunday in September. The sky was gloomy and the air had lost its warmth a few days earlier. Frequent gusts of wind blew through my jacket no matter how tightly I wrapped it around myself. My mom and I were heading out of the house to run a few errands. I pushed the white screen door open against a particularly strong breeze, and a gray streak flew out of the bushes next to our house and under our 1995 Caprice Classic. I can't take credit for seeing the streak, but I heard it first. It made this terrible, high-pitched...