The Storm

There was a storm; a storm that had ripped us from house and home. It was big, it was bad, and it was horrible. I remember it clearly to this very day. The pounding of rain on our roof and awning was something, to me, that was very unnerving. The lightning that lit up the darkness in the sky was loud, powerful, and so very frightening. I was crying. The winds were so strong that I thought a tree would crash into my room. That’s how scared I was feeling, but when I woke up, it turned out that I was dreaming. I hate thunderstorms; I’ve hated them since I was a young one. I hate the sound of the thunder as it impacts the ground. I hate the downpours of rain because they could flood the drains. I hate the strong winds because they could knock down trees. There is so much more I could say, though, about why I hate thunderstorms. One of the main reasons is because they could form tornadoes. Tornadoes always scared me because they can’t be predicted. They have very strong winds and are very chaotic forces of nature. That is one reason I dislike the Midwest, and any other place that has frequent tornadoes. I hope to never find myself in the middle of a twister. That would be a very unfortunate situation.

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