Sharon and the children are eating Pop Tarts (TM) at the dining room table. It's storming - a typical, North-central Georgia, spring thunderstorm.
The thunder intensifies, but sounds strange. Very abrupt. No echo or rolling noise like usual. Where have I heard that before?  Suddenly it gets darker. Is Sharon playing a joke? No, it shold be lighter than that. It sounds like hail is hitting the house. I look out from behind the shower curtain, and the window is way too dark. The house sounds like it's being sandblasted with gravel and rocks. "Hmmm," I think, "doesn't a tornado have hail around it?" (I'm still trying to wake up.)
Suddenly, there's a C5 landing right in our bedroom! 
"Get to the basement!" I scream to the others. I jump out of the tub, run through the doorway, turn around, run back, grab a towel, throw it around myself, and run back through the bathroom doorway into the bedroom, just in time to see...
After a second or three of this the tornado lets me go, and I run screaming down the hall. I can see into my son's room on the back side of the house, and it's fairly dark but utterly peaceful - and empty of people. I keep running and look to the right, towards the front of the house, into my daughter's room, only to see...
Where is everyone? Have they blown away? I begin to panic, screaming for them as I try the basement door - the knob won't turn the least bit, so great is the pressure generated against it right now by the monster. I stand there for an agonizing second or two, hollering in desperation for my family. My towel flies from around my waist, only to dance in midair like a cobra before a snake charmer, a foot or two away, just above my head. I snatch it back.
Suddenly, without warning, it's utterly, completely quiet. I can hear nothing but the doorknob suddenly turning in my hand. I rip the door open and scream, "Are you down there!!!"
A very strange sounding "Yes" wafts up the stairs.
I start down the stairs, legs suddenly turned to jello. Three steps down into the darkness, I recall the towel, and once again wrap it around my waist. I descend, and a few feet from the stairs stands my family - three sets of eyes the size of saucers being the main thing I can see in the dark. Esther is just starting to tremble - her Pop Tart still clutched tightly in one fist, her other hand in Sharon's, who also holds Josaih's hand.
"Are you all right?" I almost whisper. "Yes," Sharon replies. She gets right in my face, staring. "What are you doing?" I demand. She backs off, shakes her head. She thought the water and mud running down my face were blood. I'm apparently quite a sight - my eyes as big as theirs, wet hair going in all directions, wearing only a towel, water, and whatever the tornado coated me with.
They stay below, and I go back up. The interior of our house is a wreck. Windows & storm windows alike scattered everywhere. Walls coated with mud. Leaves, paper, curtains, clothes (a stranger's nightie), a beer can (we don't drink it!), all sorts of stuff. Water dripping from cracks in the ceiling. But we're alive! I start dancing for joy, praising God. Despite bare feet, I don't get cut.
Sharon & the kids hear me laughing and come up. The wreckage is reflected in the wonder on their faces; so is the fact that we made it.
Copyright 1995 Miles O'Neal, Austin, TX. All rights reserved. Miles O'Neal <roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com> [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] c/o RNN / 1705 Oak Forest Dr / Round Rock, TX / 78681-1514