The Quiet Storm's the Worst

A Storm is brewing, quietly churning above. Residents working to prepare a town tradition. Mobilizing able citizens, attempts to guarantee success. A hundred year tradition, the town's shining gem Times are changing, still they cling to the past. As if modernity bypassed this place altogether. It's eight businesses, still local and family owned. Their mayor holding office since nineteen-sixty-one Believing isolation, enhances their unity Protective of their land, united they stand. God forbid, an outsider stay more than a night. The town forgotten, by modernity a whole. Still denying the present, fate soon brings change. Above aging structures, sky churning away Storms can be soothing, or conversely bring pain. Two winds once opposing, now stand converged Conditions ideal, for a tornado to form. Tornadoes alone, enough cause for concern The storm continues, still growing even worse. Clouds full of static charge, leaves us no doubt More than enough reason, for residents to react. Residents scurry, the final preparations complete A horn rips through town, warning of dangers ahead Shocked, but resilient residents, Care only of the fair Preparations complete, they refuse to heed warning Storm's, a regular event, how bad could it be? no one knowing, the destruction in their midst. nature waits on nothing; neither man, nor tradition. Ignoring warning, disregarding the safety of shelter. Heaven's launches its first assault Tornadoes engulf people, like Dorothy off to OZ. Electricity scorches the land, which farmers depend. Fires emerge, and their antique town's ablaze Structures kept original, perfect tinder for a spark One pair of hours, laying the entire town a waste Totality of the destruction, reaches Biblical proportions. God of Ancient now returned, again full of wrath visually reminiscent, of Sodom and Gomorrah. Destructive magnitude, unseen in over a millena No signs exist implying Religious implication No Voice from Heaven, a warning from the God's No prophecy exists foretelling this specific date Feeling still, the coincidences hard to explain. Even though God's involvement, impossible to prove Regardless the architect, destruction was wrought Unknown of nature's will or God himself. Countless still missing, more dead or injured Their fertile lands now desolate as the sun. Buildings of antiquity, now smoldering piles of ash. A town so isolated, has lost their connection to the past. Progression's newest victim, brought by an aggressor unknown.