I was walking back home from the quick mart on a relatively warm night in late summer. Everything was calm and clear, and an eerie silence encompassed the normally bustling village. My footsteps sounded like tennis balls bouncing on the sidewalk as their echoes skipped off the houses like an invisible pinball. The black sky almost seemed a dark purple with all the stars that were out lighting up the sky like a Christmas tree. To my right there was a small suburb, with rows of similar looking houses. There was also a small stand with assorted baskets, above it a banner read “Fish Market”. The right of the sidewalk was darker, and had a lot of large, abandoned brick buildings. Some of their windows were cracked from vandals years ago. I suddenly stopped in my tracks. For the first time in about 30 minutes I could hear something. It sounded like a faint whining, or a trumpet of some kind. It seemed to be coming from a couple of miles in front of me, so I could barely hear it. But I knew it was there. I was just about to shrug it off and keep walking when the sound started getting louder. Then it clicked. I knew what that sound was. It was the storm warning siren. One by one I could hear the sirens clicking on and activating all over the region. I looked behind me, and almost fainted. A few miles away was the largest cyclone I had ever seen. It looked like something right out of a horror movie, devouring everything in it's path. It was about four times the circumference at the top as it was in the middle. I saw the fish stand I passed earlier ripped out of the ground, leaving crumbling cement to fall back down to the gravel. The banner from the strand was being ripped into confetti and covering the ground in its ragged remains. I was miles away from my house, and I knew that I couldn't outrun a tornado, so I started running towards the nearest brick building.

I finally got to one, and shut the door. Inside, there was half a desk, laying on it's side, and various broken chairs and flower pots scattered all over the red shag-carpeted floor. I staggered around the old furniture, trying to find a place where I'd be safe from the cyclone. I eventually settled for the broken desk in the back-right corner of the room. I waited for what seemed like hours, and when I was almost positive the tornado must be gone, the unthinkable happened. The solid brick building I was in was ripped right out of the ground. I screamed as the building was turned on it's side, then finally upside-down, sending me through the ceiling into the second story. And through the area that used to contain a floor, I saw the storm. It was like Godzilla munching on a carrot, only, where I was laying was the carrot. I could see cracks on the walls, and a rainstorm of bricks showered on the pavement below as I was sent flying up through the center of the cyclone, the wind gushing around me like a hurricane. Just when I thought for sure I was done for, my watch buzzed. “Oh yeah, I forgot.” I muttered to myself, half relieved, half disappointed. I then pressed a button on my watch, and felt around my head for the helmet. I took it off to find myself in a totally green, cylindrical room, with a huge green circular treadmill as the floor. I put the helmet on the shelf, took off my force-feedback gloves, and put the Cyclone disc back in it's case. I walked out of the room, grabbed a box from the huge pile of TV dinners in the kitchen, and put it in the microwave.