Beep, beep, beep! Joseph's radio blared. He was in the midst of one of the worst storms of the decade, and the radio was ceremoniously announcing this with its loud tones. He ran into the living room, looking for his siblings. “It’s probably time to go to the basement,” he said, breathing heavily.
“We don’t want to go. We’re playing with Legos!” replied his eight year old sister. Sure enough, she was building with the small plastic blocks next to her toddler doll.
“You know it's not safe to be here! We’re in the middle of a huge farm, so a tornado could very likely touch down!” It seemed he had sufficiently cowed them, and they trudged downstairs.
A few minutes later, the rest of his siblings had arrived. He had a large family, with three brothers and five sisters. He was by far the oldest, at 17.  After waiting for a few minutes with no sign of his parents, he decided to dart upstairs and see what was taking them so long. He pushed the heavy cellar doors and emerged into a new world. The wind was howling, and even immediately outside his house he could barely see the front door. The rain was falling in massive sheets, completely determined to soak him to the bone. He ran inside, and found his parents hustling to grab all the family photos.
“We’re coming,” his mom said. “Just give us a second to grab these pictures.” They snatched up one last frame as he watched, then ran outside to the cellar and began to climb in. He was close behind, when suddenly the rain abruptly stopped. He could palpably taste the darkness in the air as an unearthly wail rose up from the sky. He looked up to behold a behemoth of a storm cloud, rotating faster with the beats of his heart. As the terrible funnel cloud began to descend, he scanned the field around his house one last time. He was startled to see a humanoid figure lurching through the grass. He shouted down to his parents.
“There’s someone out there! I need to go get them!”
“No, son. You need to get in here, it's not safe.” His dad had yet to notice the twister from the bottom of the stairs.
“I’m sure be fine!” he said, his voice betraying his lack of confidence. “Be right back!” He slammed the doors, contemplating exactly how long he was going to be grounded. With terror coursing through his veins, he ran out into the deceptively calm landscape.
The wind had begun to pick up again, and Joseph was starting to worry. The person had not gotten much closer, despite what seemed like an eternity of running. It begun to rain again, and a quick glance over his shoulder revealed a rapidly swelling tornado. It was falling quickly now. When he looked back towards the figure, he saw that it had moved much closer. Maybe it had noticed him! Lightning suddenly struck the grassy ground yards away, sprawling Joseph on his back. When he collected himself and got back up, the rain had again blocked his visibility. He ran in the direction he hoped the man was in, and just before he would have given up, he touched a clothed arm. Sighing in relief, he called out, “Are you OK?”
The man did not answer.
Not wanting to waste time. Joseph pulled the man back towards the house. He can thank me later, he thought grimly. However, the man refused to move, or do anything for that manner. Just as he was squinting for a closer look, a massive blast of wind nearly knocked him onto his back. The howling got ten, a hundred, a thousand times worse. Joseph suddenly had a feeling of dread, and knew that the tornado had touched down. He tackled the man to the ground, and rolled him and his own body into a ditch. Wind whipped every part of him, and debris flooded his hideout in a cloud-like mass. It seemed as if the tornado was alive, its tendrils of wind searching for Joseph like fingers. The event seemed to go on for hours, but eventually the sounds became quieter, and the rain lessened. Joseph didn’t dare move or open his eyes until a shaft of sunlight poked through the thinning clouds. When he looked around, trying to find the man he had saved, he only found one thing. A scarecrow, lying in the ditch and wearing his father’s own clothing.