THE DEVIL DOESN'T COME TO THE FLATLANDS
Tornadoes are a Midwest delicacy. As a child, I used to think
the devil sent them here to taunt us. To whisper in our ears that
he can find us in the flatlands too. Hurricanes are not his only trick.
But we tried so hard to believe we were safe here. We land-locked
ourselves and took a rolling pin to all the dangerous lumps in the
earth, until the world was bare and vacant for miles. There is a kind of
safety in making ourselves desolate. My mother told me all girls must
remember this. Iron out all of your prominence–men won’t hurt
you if you give them nothing to want. After all, she’d say, the devil
doesn’t come to the flatlands. There is nothing to steal from
an empty house.
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