Visibility vanished.
Families ran for cover as the sky turned violent and the wind began to scream. In minutes, a normal day became a nightmare of flying debris,
collapsing roofs, and rising water swallowing streets. Sirens wailed, phones buzzed, and the power died,
leaving thousands in the dark, praying this wouldn’t be the night everyth… Continues…
Sirens still echo faintly over Region B as exhausted crews push through flooded streets and tangled power lines. Inside crowded shelters,
children sleep on borrowed blankets while adults whisper about what they lost and what might still be taken.
The storm has slowed, but its presence lingers in shattered windows,
uprooted trees, and the uneasy silence between thunderclaps.
Authorities are now focused on clearing roads, restoring electricity, and checking on isolated neighborhoods that went silent when the grid failed.
Volunteers continue to arrive with food, generators, and dry clothes, turning fear into a fragile kind of solidarity.
Meteorologists warn that unstable conditions could trigger new cells, but e
ach updated advisory also brings a glimmer of hope. Region B is bruised, but not broken; as the clouds begin to thin,
people step outside, counting the damage—and the fact that they are still here.
