The wind that night was vicious. It whipped at Tommy’s bedroom windows like an
angry hound tearing at a rabbit hole.
It was strange. There had been very few clouds in the sky that day, and
certainly no warning for this sudden windstorm. It sounded now like it may have
starting raining, but he was too nervous to get closer to his windows to see.
The wind seemed about to break through the glass and snatch him out of his home.
He pulled the covers closer to his face and turned over, unwilling to view the
storm any longer.
It was like some bad omen.