"No", we said, huddled and shivering. "Not us, not now." It was as much a plea now as it was what we believed before, never us, no matter how bad it got anywhere else. Never now.
The sky laughed. It replied so loudly as to awaken primal fear in everything, in existence itself. All of our petty words, so small and cliche for what was truly happening. To say it "roared" to say the din was "thunderous." They say nothing of the truth, as they came from that state of mind we had, where it was a thing to be studied from a distance of time and space. We were as removed as a sociopathic killer from a victim, performing the autopsy himself. The very noise of the sky was enough to shake houses to their foundations. We should be afraid. Somewhere right now, a tornado could rip lives to shreds. It could be brewing out this very window.
Just as quickly, that intensity is gone. Now as soon as the thunder stopped, no. Maybe a half hour later, it feels like we're in the clear. I can hear it far away, but no longer in my backyard. The storm isn't over, but there is no sense of imminent danger. I wonder if we're missing a tree?