Cyclone
From my bedroom window, I can see rain falling as hard as a stone; people cold and wet, wrapped in blankets and coats but still cold; hail bouncing like a ball and crashing on the road, making people slip over; iron garage roofs blowing off; stones flying up and breaking windows, rolling along the road faster than the cars; trees as tall as a sky tower waving madly and branches crashing off; I can hear the wind whistling like a washing machine, making coconut trees fall down; stones clicking against the windows; thunder loud and scary like an evil demon. Lightning destroying people with its fire. Scary, like being chased by a crocodile.
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