Twisted

SSN#

ENC1101

Narrative

Word Count: 903

09/19/02

Twisted

Audience:

General Audience / Instructor

Purpose:

Literary work

To explain how a tornado can affect a family.

Thesis Sentence:

Although an event may be traumatic it is not necessarily life changing.

Outline:

I. Describe the setting

A. Where / When

B. What was heard

1. What did the tornado sound like

2. How did parents direct us

C. What was seen

1. How did the storm look

2. What did the tornado look like

II. What was on the farm

A. House

B. Storm Cellar

C. Animals

D. Trees

E. Newly plowed and planted fields

III. Where did we go

A. Root cellar

B. Neighbor

III. What did the tornado do

A. To the farm

B. To the family

I guess everyone experiences at least one terrifying event in his or her lifetime. How we assimilate the event shapes our attitudes, or maybe vice-versa. It can become the catalyst that lead, to phobias; sometimes it even earns itself a fancy title with "syndrome" attached to the end of it. I just call it a memory, but one I shared with eight other people.

In a north central Indiana cornfield, not far from Indianapolis, my father returned to his chores in the field after a brief rain shower had passed. The edge of an enormous thunderstorm, laced with brilliant lightning, had passed overhead and it seemed as if the worst of the storm was over.

Life was not easy on the fertile soil of Wabash County, Indiana, on May 25, 1966. For my family, life was about to become even harder. A muffled roar in the distance grew louder and sharper. As dad began to move toward the house, he realized that the low, indistinct form in the distance was not rain or a patch of fog. It was a rotating transparent funnel, beneath a dark mass of cloud. It extended from under the southwest corner of the thunderstorm. An occasional snake-like form would briefly appear within the cloud, and then suddenly vanish. It was coming directly toward our farm.

The next time he looked, three or four contorted and transparent columns would briefly circle the center of what looked like a patch of swirling mist. The cloud looked nothing like the thin funnels and ropes that we had seen in the distance every few years. Dad now ran at full speed for the house, trying with each breath to shout "Twister!" Within the next few seconds, nine people would make life or death decisions about self-preservation, about prized possessions, and about family members. The rotating cloud had changed from transparent mist to a solid brown mass, at the edge of the newly

1

planted fields. The twister continued to advance relentlessly toward the farm.

With the edge of the vortex still to the southwest, the corner of the roof suddenly gave way and the 30-year-old maple trees that surrounded the house began to snap. A

powerful jet of air flowing into the tornado began ripping at the house. The entire

building vibrated as the unearthly roar grew steadily louder. One of my sisters grabbed a

prized