Doors slamming and rain pelting down onto the brown mouldy tiles that were on the roof, it was as wet as a dripping icy pole. The violent storm was ruining our old, white house and smashing our thin windows. We ran out as fast as we could and just in time our house came crashing down onto the brown grass with pieces of old white, wood stabbing into the wet ground. We stood there in despair looking at our broken items lying on the ground. I see my toy; my rocking horse under the broken wood. I place my head on my mums shoulder and start to sob.