Author's Note: Okay, full disclosure: My real name is Amaya Olatunde. I am finally revealing my full name for you guys.
'
"Hurry up, Amaya!" my dad said.
"I'm trying!"
"Amaya!" my sister yelled.
"Yeah, I'm sorry! I am hurry-up-ing!"
Saying we were trying to get out as quick as we could was an understatement.
We couldn't have gotten out of there quick enough.
After a hectic start to our day, we set off in search of a place to settle down. But there was one problem: we didn't even know where we were going. My parents had to spend an HOUR looking for hotels we could stop at. NOT A SINGLE HOTEL IN FLORIDA WAS AVAILABLE!
After about 4 hours, we realized that there was no point look for a hotel in Florida.
So, we decided to head to Georgia.
And still could not find a hotel.
One receptionist at one of the hotels we came to was talking and I heard them say this:
"You're not going to find a hotel in these areas..." the woman said. She was tall, had brown hair, and her hair was tied back in a very neat bun. She seemed very, very professional.
"If you head to Atlanta (which is also still in Georgia), then you may find a few hotels with a few rooms."
That was all we needed to hear.
As soon as we got back to the car, my dad stepped on the gas pedal, my mom made a reservation for a hotel in that area, and me and my little sister A.J. continued talking, laughing, and playing our games. My sister fell asleep at some point though, so it was just me talking to myself.
After about 4 hours, we stopped at a restaurant to grab some food that we could eat in the hotel. We were all so excited to stop and rest!
But what we found about the food and the hotel was the worst news we could have found out at that moment...
YOU ARE READING
Surviving Hurricane Milton
Non-FictionI'm going to make 2 stories on this. One on my true experiences, and one as a realistic fiction.
