by Ann Mayburn
“It’s like the northern lights, during the daytime,” Paige whispered. “But that’s impossible.”
Merl came out the front door of his store, the jingling bells drawing Casey’s attention away from the sky. It wasn’t like the northern lights she’d seen on TV. Those were wispy, almost ethereal-looking. These streaks of light were more like bright, sustained fireworks.
“Solar flare,” Merl said in a choked voice while wiping his face with a faded blue handkerchief. “Must be a huge solar flare that knocked the power out.”
From nearby came the sound of car alarms going off and she shook her head, trying to block out the background noises.
“Get in the car,” Casey said in a low, choked voice. When none of her friends moved she screamed, “Get in the car!”
