We were in the basement, because that’s where they tell you to go in the event of a tornado. Go to the basement, they say. Wait there while a swirling vortex of wind and debris destroys everything you’ve worked so hard to build. Wait, while your life tumbles to the ground around your ears like a house of cards when someone sneezes.

It was cold in the basement, colder than I’ve ever felt, even though it was the middle of July. Now I think that perhaps it was just my fear, grabbing ahold of me and turing everything to ice.

The sound was something that I will never forget. To my ears, it sounded as though the house was lamenting its own loss as it was torn to shreds. Creaking, keening, moaning sounds that vibrated my molars. Roaring, like a train meant to bring us all to our death.

I was crying so hard I could hardly breathe. The noise in the basement grew to such a degree that it felt like an actual presence among us. Like it had form and substance. Everything was shaking.

And then silence.