The barely audible thunder rolls bring a sigh of relief that sweeps over the classroom like waves on the coast of California. The thunder sounds so distant. After not hearing even a minuscule droplet of water hit our windowpanes in over two years, even the faintest lightning bolt is cause for celebration. The entire school heaves a collective sigh of relief as the first raindrops lightly pitter-patter on the roof. First, we hear plank-plank-plank. Then - as the rain comes down faster and larger - tap-pat, tap-pat. The rain comes down faster and harder still - drum, drum, drum. More thunder rolls with an unexpected spike in volume - CRASH, BA-BOOM, RUMBLE.

As the rain and thunder continue growing louder - it seems so with each drop - I can't help but wonder how odd it is for a storm to grow so rapidly. Two minutes ago, the storm was so far away that I had to strain to hear the thunder. Now, the same storm is devastatingly loud.

I cover my ears, as do the rest of my classmates. The beeps of the intercom are heard faintly above the commotion, but nobody hears what is being said. I think it's something to do with intricate blenders and waffle toasters, but I know my principle would say nothing of the sort and dismiss the announcement as nothing.

The deafening downpour becomes louder than I think is humanly possible. As if it weren't bad enough, the entire class in now in a tizzy! A sweating, nervous front of hormonal humidity slams into me, leaving me breathless, sticky and dazed.

I watch one of my classmates(Is his name Gerald?) reach into his pocket. As he pulls out his trusted inhaler, I notice his heaving chest and red face. I've heard Gerald's wheezing before. It's as loud as a jet passing by just a few thousand feet overhead. In fact, when Gerald DOES wheeze and chokes like the way he is now, the school nurse - located on the other side of the building - runs to our room to check on him.

Now the realization that this storm is louder than Gerald Eucon sinks in, and I start to panic. My fingers start drumming on the desk - all ten of them. My feet start tapping. My mind races as I look around, frantically searching for something to rip, tear, shred, bite, kick, snap in half.

Everybody in the room is buzzing around. I see them try to communicate with body gestures while projecting their voices at the top of their lungs. But I can't hear them. The rain has become so amplified ans everybody is so frantic. My mind darts here and there, along with my eyes, my feet, my hands.

Without notice, the ceiling collapses. A great avalanche of water folds in over the magnificent chaos. There's nothing anybody can do to stop the abundant liquid from flowing in. It fills my lungs, my nose and every other crevice of my body. I frantically flail my arms and legs, trying to puncture the surface of the forever-flowing water, but there is no end in sight to the aquatic murder that surrounds me. Ginormous gulps of H2O fill me to the brim. I become increasingly panicked as I see my peers drifting lifelessly into the abyss. I take one last water-filled breath, and I go to sleep. I know I will never wake up.