The first windows shattered. The wind roared. “I have to let you go!” Robin Faulkinberry yelled into the phone. “It’s here!” Then nothing. The air was sucked out of the house, which the Faulkinberrys had closed on three days earlier. Faulkinberry, now 49, doesn’t remember what happened after she hung up the phone. Neither does her daughter.
Every spring, the nightmares return.Always, they're a demented version of the moments just after 7:30 p.m. 10 years ago. That's when “the worst tornado ever recorded” — as I call it — ripped apart my neighborhood in Moore.