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Roaring Monster Leaves Little

By David Zizzo Published: May 4, 1999
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One by one those trapped in the basement emerged into the damp, dark evening, happy to be alive.

"Everybody, thank God, seems to be OK," said Velma Percival, the homeowner's daughter.

Reality and shock set in as they saw what was left of the neighborhood. Not much.

"I can't tell you what it's like to walk out of this house and see this," Sivard said. "I can't tell you."

The large home, which backed up to a golf course, now was only a remnant of a garage. The golf clubhouse next door did not appear to be there anymore. Power lines blocked driveways; trees and utility poles were doubled over and splintered.

"Where's my car?" one person said as she emerged. "It was parked right here."

All the cars and trucks the group drove to the home were gone. As the group gathered out front, a figure wrapped in a blanket, eyes still wide from what he'd seen, made his way through the dusk toward the group at the Percival home. "You're OK!" they shouted to him.

"I was wrapped around the toilet," Joe O'Bryant said, describing how he hid in a rest room of the golf course.

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