Tornado Survivor Story

Storms and tornadoes fascinated and terrified me as a child. My mother-in-law and my great-grandmother were terrified of storms, likely due to undiagnosed lilapsophobia or astraphobia. The scariest sound for me personally was the sound of the tornado sirens being utilized at nuclear power plants. Anyway, I started reading and researching as much as possible on extreme weather. A tornado that struck our little town in eighth grade claimed one man's life. We never walked into the corridor since I was sitting by a wall in my classroom, mostly made of glass windows. There was some communication among classrooms that our county was under caution. The session was stopped when I alerted the instructor to the sky's terrible, almost malignant green hue. My teacher said, "Class, I don't believe we are in Kansas anymore." It landed less than one mile from where we were.

The southeast experienced a tragic and terrible day on April 27, 2011. Although we were not directly affected while I was working at a hardware shop, 2-inch PVC tubing was sucked off outdoor racks and launched 14 inches into a nearby yard. Later that evening, I discovered mail from Cullman, Alabama, in my yard. Additionally, I discovered coloring pages from an unknown primary school.

That evening, I hoped he and my neighbor Mrs. Brooks were secure. I speak these names because they will always be ingrained in my memory. Insulation and siding were found in our yard, as my mother, as well as aunt, saw. In our memories, 2x4s can be seen soaring through the air like helicopter propellers. That day, we felt fortunate and kept safe.

Fast-forward nearly nine years, I attended an Easter barbeque at a friend's house. I was aware of the storms' potential to last into the night. Around 10:45 am, my verbally sparse neighbor texted, "Hey, bubba-tree in your bedroom." If you require a saw, I have one. It's in the garage. A medium-sized tree damaged my house during a minor storm that passed through the neighborhood.

I got into my car out of frustration and drove home. It was strange because I assumed the weather had stabilized after the rain. Anyway, it was softly pouring when I pulled up. I waved and said "thanks" and said I'd return it early as my neighbor, dressed in a pink bathrobe, pointed to the carport. He raised his beer casually and nodded. I unlocked the door, retrieved a hoodie, turned on the lights, and entered the room with a saw to evaluate the damage.

It was at 11:30 when I arrived at the tree and saw that my neighbor, who was wearing a pink robe, had set his ladder up for me exactly where I wanted it. So, to remove the heaviest component off the roof, I primed, fired up, and climbed halfway up the ladder. I started cutting as the rain became heavier, imagining how to shelter the roof. I was unaware of the weather. It felt like somebody snapped their index fingers in my face as I debated the quickest and simplest way to complete this in my head, almost in a trance. It was as though I suddenly realized how dangerous the situation was. Just the saw roaring and rattling my hand—no breeze or rain.

I catch sight of my heroic, and I repeat the heroic, pink-robed counterpart waiving both hands while the other still holds a beer. I stopped the saw and turned to face him as he pointed westward. The infamous goods train's roar could soon be heard. I anticipated it when I saw power flashes. Since I am a grizzly bear-sized man weighing 285 pounds with a height (5'7") and the heart of a teddy bear, I smoothly slid down the ladder after dropping the saw, which was stuck straight up in the ground. I never thought of myself as so graceful. I reached for his saw and realized he had disappeared inside like a ghost.

As I reached the carport, I threw open the door and, like every other day, threw it across my back to close it with three fingers. However, the wind caught it, and it promptly came back on me. The moment the power went off, I slammed it shut. As I saw lightning and electrical flashes, my living room appeared ominous. I slammed the door, jumped into the half-bath immediately inside, covered my head, laid down, and prayed for my family while I covered my head.

Even though my mind was pounding with a million regrets, prayers, and other thoughts, I could still sense air blowing in from under the entrance and towards me before being drawn back out of the space. Then the sheetrock above my house crashed, and it seemed like my roof rose and dropped back down. I then heard items banging against my house. I heard glass breaking, nails being yanked out of wood, and the most terrifying sound I've ever heard. I hope I never hear that sound again. A grunt was heard. A groan. It is only wicked. From April 12 till the day I met my partner in early August, it made me shake from head to toe.

Everything was calm until I felt something strike my head. I moved the ceiling truss that had knocked me out as soon as I opened my eyes. A little cut on my damp head started to feel heated. I was thirsty and perplexed. I entered the kitchen, clearing the way with a kick, grabbed an unmolested glass from my counter, and downed a full glass of water. As I peered into the gloom of my living room, where the moon could be seen poking through the clouds through the cracks in my ceiling, it all came back to me. Even then, it felt surreal.

When I stepped outside, I discovered that only one side of my car was fully and heavily submerged in mud and grass. As I left the carport, a light temporarily dazzled me. "The robe man" is here to see how I'm doing. I inquired how he and his spouse, or "ole lady" as he referred to her, were doing. He nodded and extended his right hand to say, "OK." His left hand held a coffee mug filled with a quick coffee in place of his drink. Not from the throbbing headache from the blow to the head or the dislocated shoulder but rather from the gratitude I felt for him for having the saw and being outside to warn me; tears streamed down my cheeks as I stood there.

I squeezed that man so tightly that he touched my shoulder when he raised his arms to embrace me. Apart from minor injuries, no fatalities were announced in my town that day, which was a blessing. My trembling and sporadic dreams persisted until I finally met my partner in August of the year. She became aware of the trembling and realized what was causing it. She miraculously snatched it away from me, though. I still shake when I see her enter the room because I still feel butterflies. Please be careful. Observe the weather. A man wearing a pink bathrobe should never be judged.