Tornado

Spring has come to the great American plains. The afternoon grows hot and humid. Dark clouds form across the wide-open land. Lightning flashes and thunder rolls; strong winds whip up, carrying gravel, leaves and prickly tumbleweeds.

A wall cloud draws a sharp dark line. Like tiny tendrils, funnel clouds dip down and up; the sky turns an eerie green. Hail batters the roof and covers the grass and streets. Shrill tornado sirens begin to wail.

No one is outside. It is as dark as night. Traffic has stopped. Shoppers are herded to the back of stores. Office workers stand in interior hallways. School children are shepherded to emergency shelters. Frightened mothers huddle with young children in basements or bathtubs. All try to remain calm.

A huge column of circulating air descends from the bottom of the thunderstorm. Its powerful rotating circular winds roar through town with the sound and fury of a runaway freight train.









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