It was tornado season. We were driving in the car when the sky turned green and lightning came down and touched the ground. My mom wouldn’t stop driving, because my fifteen year old brother was at boy scout camp. Even if we did stop driving, there as nothing to protect us from the storm, or the tornado. Hail came down, and lightning came right next to the car. We were crying. It was just me, my mom, and the tornado.

I called my aunt, because if I died, at least someone would know. My mom kept telling me we would be alright. For some reason, I didn’t believe her. After an hour of driving, rain lightened up. The lightning was gone for now at least. We were what was left of a small town. Trees had fallen, things were a mess, yet the people joined together to clean up the mess.

When we got to the campsite where my brother was, he was crying. They found protection in a ditch by a rising river. The biggest of them all got on top of therm. A tree fell, but luckily it missed them. We drove home right away, not wanting to be hit by the now approaching storm.