Written by: Holly Schmidt
The sound was horrifying. I had heard that tornadoes sounded like a train as they approached their target. It is true. This swarming mass of wind coming at our French Door windows really did sound as if a train, multiple trains, were hurling at a mammoth rate of speed towards our house. The sky had turned an eerily blue, like how the lights of a police car light up the night sky as they flash that turquoise light at you when you are supposed to pull over.
That same type of adrenaline that rushes through your body when seeing headlights of an emergency vehicle behind you on a dark country road flooded through my body. The tree, 25 feet from where I was standing, bent over to the ground.