Stormy weather.
One October afternoon, when I had just turned fifteen, me and two friends were walking through the school grounds on the way to a lesson. This was late October of 1987, which UK bods may remember as having one fuck off big storm. The storm itself had passed by this time but trees and buildings were still suffering damage and apt to fall down seemingly at random.
We were late to class as one of my friend was on crutches. This was a usual occurrence as she had brittle bones. We paused outside the music block and pondered which route to take to the classroom - into the doors nearest to us (and into the warm, a nicer option for both us and her, which risked getting even more bollocked for being late) but a longer route or to turn right under some trees (colder as it was outside but a quicker route to the destination and hopefully less bollocking). After a couple of minutes debate we opted to go into the warm building and take the long way round.

We passed through the doors and as they shut behind us, a gust of fairly insignificant wind blew down a massive oak tree, flattening everything around it instantly. It had obviously been damaged in the previous storm and had just been waiting to topple. The noise was like nothing on earth, a sort of rending, squealing roar.
We stood rooted to the spot for a few moments until people came running out from everywhere to see what had happened. Luckily no one was hurt as everyone had been inside in class, but the branches poked a few windows of a nearby building out and flattened a teacher's bicycle.

Had we decided to take the quicker route to class, we would have definitely been under it when it fell, and I would imagine we would have been instantly killed.
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Thu 19 Aug 2010, 14:20, Reply)