Dust, an auburn color, as rust does to metal,corroding away the town, what seemed like a slow and painful, was the exact opposite, it was to fast and painful. The town was microscopic to the angry, roaring, storm rolling, gobbling stealing everything in its path. The storm looked like a burnt glacier on steroids. It came at the microscopic town with enough force to blast it out of existence. Oh that poor town not knowing what got them, that evil, wicked storm left nothing behind but destruction, and despair. There was a vile smell in the air. I caught a whiff of it; it smelled like rotten food. The cries of joy and despair filled the air, the joy of family and loved one alive but the joy wavered as they looked around, then the despair came
