Katie_Gr - Experiment 4 lyrics

As the sky grows dark so does the tone of the wind. The clouds leak rain like tears from a child. Drip by drip the ground soaks up the moisture which fertilizes the crops. Miles and miles can be seen from the house and within those miles are the acres of farmland owned by my family and only a few others. For years I have lived here on the plains, but never have I seen a storm, such as this, grow so fast and spread as quickly. The howling winds and shifting temperature indicate a tornado, but the tendrils from the clouds are everywhere in patterns. Every so often a needle shape shoots out from the grouping of clouds as if to pinpoint a location. Thunder and lightning join this storm as well, but in a different fashion than normal. Thunder bangs in a certain rhythm, bang…bang…crack of lightning. The strikes of lightning are also strange. Instead of shining a bright yellow, almost white light, it seems to be flashing a purple or violet color. Unnatural is the start of the storm it seems, because nothing created by God has looked so ugly and felt so harmful. Nothing feels right when I walk around the property either. The horses are safe in their stalls by choice, the cattle are still grazing in the pasture, and the dogs and cats are huddled beneath the front porch of the house. Normally, all of the animals would be throwing a fit as if to warn me something dangerous was coming. I don't know if I should feel safe that whatever is coming may not be coming for me. Or if I should be afraid, because whatever it is is sending either a safe message or going undetected by the animals. Pulling up the drive is a red pickup truck which can never be forgotten or placed in another's hands. The truck belongs to my dad and has never sounded so terrible than it has today. Again, it seems as if no one is really paying attention or feeling worried about the details to this storm. I'd like to say they are only minute details, but that would be a lie considering the differences in this storm compared to the multitudes of others is completely opposite. While tornadoes and thunder storms come frequently, those with purple lighting and rhythmic thunder are hard to come by. The truck squeals with rage as it rolls to a halt. He yells for me as I stare in amazement that the vehicle made it the five mile jaunt down from his house. Before I walk down the hill; lightning strikes the wind mill in the front yard. From the metal beams, light shines all the way around like it is used from distributing a message. I turn around to run and protect my dad, but at that moment everything is gone. A sudden urge to hide under my covers waves over me like the rush of caffeine from a morning cup of coffee. Nothing will ever be the same and I may not see what I knew for so long again. This is the message my brain no longer wrestles with as I fade into a deep slumber.