Brooke Jennett

I burst out of the front door and came to a standstill.

The fat raindrops were pelting me, but my eyes were locked on the massive funnel of clouds now ripping up the cornfields about 600 yards in front of me.

The noise was all-consuming.

It was mesmerizing.

A stalk of corn slammed next to me, waking me up from my stupor.

I dashed for the back of the house.

Jim was waiting for me at the ramp down into the shelter.

He had already closed one side.

He waved me on.

I ran past him and he slammed the shelter door shut.

Jim told me to move deeper into the room and I didn't argue.

I pushed against the wall, away from Agnes, and sat down in the dirt.

Jim moved towards his mom and sat down, finally catching his breath.

The noise of an oncoming tornado is unlike anything I've ever heard.

200 mile an hour winds filled all the space.

Occasionally you'd hear debris slamming into the ground.

The house itself groaned and seemed to shimmy ever so slightly at the approaching funnel.

I had to try to take my mind off of everything.

I pulled out my phone and turned on the light.

Without drawing attention to the journal, I pulled it out and started reading.