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I was in school. College perhaps, because I recall being able to call the teacher "professor." I think, even, that the teacher in question was one of my teachers from college. Liz, we called her. Her first name was Elizabeth. I can't even remember what her formal 'teacher name' would be. She was always just Liz. My class and I had a project to do. A last-minute, end of the year project that was thrown together due to poor planning on the professor's part. I had to go to a particularly large classroom - literally quite grandiose, with stacks of bookshelves for some reason lining the walls - and I had to put on a performance for a class of younger students. We were tasked with performing Star Wars - just the first movie, Darth Vader and all that noise. But we had no costumes. Nor did we have any preparation. We had to do it right then. The only costumes we could find were (and this may be dangerous to say around these parts)... animal costumes. Fur suits. All I can remember was being mad. That wasn't what I signed up for. I was failed by the educational system. Failed by my professor. I remember yelling about it, making a scene, in front of the audience, about how much of an utter disgrace the whole thing was.

I was in a vacation city with my mom and her friend. A storm was rolling in. I noticed a few tornadoes had broken out, but they were calm and not very destructive. I lost my mother and I took cover with another family. Eventually, we came out to view the destruction and it was minimal, despite there being several tornadoes. We ended up driving home and hitting the same storm again. My mothers friend was driving, and she saw another tornado. I wasn't scared of it, but she was terrified. She started speeding really fast in the car. She was going so fast that I ended up being thrown into the back windshield. I was more scared of my mother's friend driving than the tornado

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