Survival of Sandy

The tempest was seething with dark mists and the sky was filled with thunder. I was 7 years old when Sandy hit. It was October twenty eighth, 2012. The trees were thundering like an entire development team was trying to chop them down.
“Matt, are the trees falling or are we all safe!?” My oldest brother questioned.
“We are fine.” I bellowed down the stairs from my room.
At last none of them tumbled down. On the off chance that they figured out how to fall, I would be squashed in my new tree house.
“Hey, Matt go grab four flashlights from the attic.”  Dorian, the oldest brother said. I immediately got our flashlights from the creepy, dusty attic and went to the ground floor, to the kitchen.
This was in my old house in Connecticut. We accessed the web from Dorians telephone.We were lucky he was still getting reception.
“Yes!” He screamed. “I have wifi!”
He discovered that the storm was northwest, towards New York.
The main thing that I could do at this time was ensure that nobody got hurt. The primary thing I worried about was that goliath tree might decide to spear us.. These trees were still letting the wind control them.
Suddenly, we heard a strange, loud sound on the front lawn. Our neighbor had crashed his truck into our wire fence. His truck had made a gigantic dent in it. Soon after that, a tree fell on the telephone wires above the street. We didn't get hurt, however, we had years’ worth of bad dreams.  After the storm, the repairmen came to fix the wifi for the whole street.
“Finally it's over. We're safe, Matt.”
The moral was to never lose trust in something that is practically incomprehensible. It took the repairmen about the rest of the day to fix the wires because of how the tree fell. They had trouble getting the tree away from the wires and once they did, it fell onto our front yard. That massive dent in our fence? We had to talk to our neighbor for an hour, trying to convince him to pay him pay because he was one of the oldest people in the town.