Wind blew across the prairie, making the long, hearty grass look like ocean waves, not that Alan Jones had ever seen an ocean. The boy, Alan, sat cross legged on the roof of his family’s dugout home, and watched the air tickle the grass and weeds that flourished all around him.

It was a warm-ish May afternoon and Alan’s mother and father had given him a half hour to himself, the first bit of time that Alan had to himself since the last month. Admiring the vast sea of grass was usually how he spent that time. To him, the soft boundless silence of the plains almost seemed magical.

But, even though he loved every bit of the hard, yet satisfying life he and his family led, it seemed as though he was the only one who really enjoyed it. Though no one ever said it, his mother and father were sorry that they had made the trek out west. His parents didn’t mind the hard work that came along with the prairie, but along the way Alan had lost his older sister and younger brother to typhoid fever on their four month journey. Only Alan and his younger sister, Charlotte, remained of the Jones children.

Calmly, Alan laid his head down on the grass that grew on a mound of dirt that curved towards the sky. His eyes glistened as he read the sky, searching for the stories hidden within the clouds. Today, the clouds were telling him a dark story. In the distance, dark clouds were forming, with a swirling shape maturing as it consumed every little bit of light around it.

“Alan,” his sister’s voice suddenly called from the side of the mound. “Ma says that you need to come inside now.” She told him sternly, almost shaken. The boy hesitated for just a moment, but only a moment. It wasn’t that he was disobeying his mother’s orders, but instead he began to worry why his sister seemed rattled. “But, first please get Pa from the stables. He needs to come inside, too.”

Alan nodded and stood up with one swift jump. The sky only seemed to be getting darker and darker, with the winds beginning to become a bit more harsh than they had been just a moment ago. A few raindrops floated their way towards the ground as well.

Now a bit flustered himself, he hurried down the side of the dugout and raced towards the stables. The building wasn’t much of one. It was made from sod and prairie turf, with the occasional piece of scrap wood. It was nothing special and often leaked, causing the animals inside great discomfort. But it was better than no shelter at all.

“Pa!” Alan yelled as he ran into the closest thing to a barn that they had. “Pa!”

Alan’s father stepped out from behind a horse, his slick black hair hidden under a hat. “I’m here. Do me a favor and start milking the cow, would you?”

He did not want to refuse this. Disobeying his father’s orders was never something that ended well, but Alan was beginning to worry about the clouds, just as he assumed his mother was. “Ma says that we have to come inside right away. I think it’s because of the sky. It looks like a storm’s coming.”

Pa, who had been gathering a pail for milking looked up. “How bad does the storm look? What were the clouds like?”

“It looks dark and there’s a cloud that’s starting to look like one of Ma’s baking funnels.”

His father set down the pail and rushed towards a long piece of rope. “Alan, help me seal up the doors. Now!”

Now fully aware of the situation, Alan ran towards his father and took one end of the rope. The two of them hurried out of the stables and closed the misshapen doors behind them. The wind was beginning to howl and was starting to push Alan and his father around. The cloud that he had spotted not too long ago was now almost touching the ground and making a violent swirling pattern. The boy froze in place. He had heard about tornados, but had never seen one or experienced one.

“Alan!” His father yelled to him over the increasingly brutal wind. “Stop standing there and help me tie the rope around the door handles.” Alan didn’t see how this would help. From what he heard tornadoes were extremely powerful, and a matter of rope wouldn’t stop their path of destruction. But, he obeyed and quickly helped tie the rope in strong knots.

Once everything was tied down, the father and his son hurried towards their dugout home. Trying to run became difficult as they trekked the thirty feet from the barn to the dugout. Once they arrived at the door, their muscles were sore from struggling through the howling wind that sounded like a train whistle.

Charlotte opened the door before Pa could even reach the handle. “Hurry inside,” she said with panic evident in her voice. Pa pushed Alan forward first, just as Alan looked towards the funnel cloud. It had touched the ground, with chunks of dirt and prairie turf flying from its ugly, swirling sides. Pa rushed inside right after Alan.

“Quickly,” Ma said with a look of relief on her face. “Help me board the door.” The two of them obliged as Ma gave them several pieces of broken up boards. Alan’s eyes searched the dugout for what the wood could possibly be from until he saw Ma’s cabinet where she kept grandmother’s china. It was broken apart, with only the base remaining.

Without hesitation, Pa and Alan grabbed two hammers that were in a pail by the door. Quickly, the two of them drove nails into the wood surrounding the door. The wind was only getting louder and Alan could tell that the tornado was only getting closer and closer.

After everything was in place Ma and Pa ushered their two children to a back corner of their one-roomed home. There, the four of them sat in a huddle, clinging to each other out of pure horror. As the wind got stronger and stronger outside, a different sound began to come into place. It sounded as though a train was rushing along its tracks, just outside the door. Something from the wind outside slammed against a mud wall, causing a small bit of it to cave in onto itself. A shard of wood, possibly from the stables, punctured the door. This caused Alan to hide his face in his arms. The absolute terror of the storm was too much for Alan to bear. He couldn’t watch the mass destruction of the place that he grew to love, his home.

It seemed as though the storm lasted for hours as the family hugged each other. But, the storm passed after excruciating trepidation swarmed the Jones family. Alan was the first to get to his feet. A huge gaping hole had been torn near the door of his home. The boy crawled out of it, to face the horror outside.

Dirt and grass had been torn from its place and thrown elsewhere. The stables were gone. A few bits of wood remained, covering what Alan assumed were the corpses of the livestock.

The boy stood there in shock, unaware that Mother Nature had the capability of being so cruel. Not long after Alan had made his way outside, his sister followed, along with his parents. The four of them stood there, facing just one more hardship their family was forced to endure.