The houses hung heavy shouldered, like a row of old men who knew all they could do was wait. Inside number 23, I looked…out the window over all of the distruction. Everything had been perfect 10 minutes ago. But I guess that is how it works. It took 50 years to develope this perfect quaint town and it took only seconds to destroy it.

Had God planned for this tornado? Was this damage a destined disaster? Why did this happen here? Nothing would ever be the same in this town. There would always be something erie about what had been here before.

I look at all the remains and devestated people, looking for surviors, but there were barely any found.

Almost as though it was planned, the dark stormy  clouds part and beams of bright sun shine onto the ruins. Something peacful comes over everyone and all of the cries and groans silence.

{We will be okay}



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