The air feels different. It's as though the atmosphere was coated with dust and pollen. The wooden walls creak under the force of the wind picking up. The sun had been hidden all morning, but it was becoming too dark; a blue hue clouded over the neighborhood with a menacing whisper. Outside the grass began to shiver rather than dance. The doorframe whistled as the wind began to beat against it. The only window in the room began to fog over the edges. A single drop hit the barrier--another. The grass started fighting against its own roots, and the walls shuttered ever so slightly. A flash of light was cast in the distance out the window, which was becoming coated by the rain that fell all too quickly. A cold breeze broke through the doorframe as an overwhelming crack was heard throughout the area.

It was too late.