How Did They Make The Tornado In Wizards Of Oz?

Storm Burgesse, daughter of a Trillionaire couple, she grew up in luxury, attending elite schools and excelled in everything, she met Daston Lemos while visiting Westmune City learning about the Arts and working at an exclusive Studio or so he thought. He pursued Storm because she reminded him of someone though he never told her whom, she spent many years tied to him never knowing until... The revelations opens the door for someone who has watched and waited for years for a chance to have her, let's journey through the Storm

When a hurricane comes, my husband, the leader of a rescue team, takes away everything we've stored at home so he can save his true love. I plead, "Leave some for me. I'm pregnant." He shakes me off. "How can you be so evil? The windows at Lottie's home have already been blown away. Don't tell me you're going to sit by and watch her die! She's not like you—you're not afraid of everything. The hurricane will be over soon, so you won't need any of this stuff." After that, he leaves without another look back. What he doesn't know is that there's also a crack in our home's windows.

I was pregnant. On my way to deliver documents to Tristan Goldberg, a flash flood struck. Desperate, I dialed his number, praying he’d answer. After a few rings, the call connected. But instead of Tristan, a woman’s voice answered. "Tristan, whose number is this? Do you want to answer it?" There was a brief pause, and then Tristan’s voice, cold and indifferent, cut through. "It’s just my maid. Ignore it. Hang up." And just like that, the call disconnected. Staring at the torrent rising around me, my pulse quickened. I texted him, begging for him to send a rescue team. Minutes passed as the waters climbed to my waist, churning and relentless. Then, a message from Tristan finally appeared. Tristan: [What kind of ridiculous story are you making up now?] Tristan: [Emily, do you think you're eighteen, playing these childish games? I want that document in my hands within thirty minutes, or we're getting divorced.] A surge of terror shot through me as I looked up, catching sight of a heavy branch snapping loose and crashing down. In an instant, everything went dark.

The year was 1934; I was twenty-two years old. I never thought of myself as anything special. I was barely making it through the Great Depression. There were many days I lived off of scraps. I was the king of odd jobs, just enough to get by. I had done it all, from being a field hand to a miner. It all changed one night when I stumbled across a traveling circus, Cirque du Lune. I had never seen such a sight. Instead of the usual menagerie, this circus was overrun with wolves. There was one performer who caught my eye; it was as if an angel had descended from heaven on a silk ribbon.

Olivia Statler hates Logan Hayes. It's not the fact that he's an executive of a rival travel company, or the fact that he's trying to buy her company, or even the fact that he won't leave her alone. Two years ago, the two of them seemed to have something that was amazing and real, but Logan's ego got in the way. When a new resort offers her an all-expense-paid trip to woo new clients, she figures that a working vacation is just what she needs. As the youngest CEO in the travel business, she's honored and flattered. However, she isn't the only executive that the resort invited. When Olivia sees the broad shoulders and blonde hair of Logan Hayes, her heart races. Half of it is raw sexual attraction, half of it is anger at what he did to her. Logan is determined to reignite their past spark, but Olivia does everything possible to avoid him. However, a hurricane strikes and traps them on the island, making it impossible to ignore the changed man in front of her. Only a storm as powerful as their passion will show them love or hate. Can romance survive the storm – or will their hurricane kisses be swept away forever?

For our graduation trip, the three of us traveled to Iceland to watch the aurora borealis. During the trek, my best friend Chloe Bennett’s scarf was swept away by the howling wind. Without a second thought, my boyfriend Valen Vance stripped off his own heavy scarf and wrapped her up tight in it. Turning to me, he said, “Hurry up and help Chloe fetch it. You know that’s her favorite scarf.” I braved the biting, freezing wind alone, chasing it for a long time. By the time I finally retrieved the scarf and turned around, the northern lights had already vanished from the sky—and Valen and Chloe were no longer where I left them. My phone buzzed with a text from him: “You were taking too long. Chloe is afraid of the cold, so I brought her back to the hotel first.” Stranded in a foreign country, I stood at the crossroad for six grueling hours, waving down over twenty passing cars. Finally, someone took pity on me and gave me a ride. When I stumbled back into the hotel well past midnight, shivering and entirely frozen to the bone, I found them curled up under a thick blanket, huddled close together as they looked over the photos they had taken that day. They were laughing and chatting about photography and the northern lights—a conversation I was permanently locked out of. Noticing me, Valen merely frowned. “What took you so long? I made a mug of hot tea for you over there. Go warm yourself up.” I wrapped my numb fingers around the mug. The tea inside had gone ice-cold hours ago. At that moment, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion settled deep into my chest. Fine, then. I booked the earliest flight out, canceled the rest of our hotel reservations, and decided right then to leave. The northern lights I spent a lifetime chasing were never meant for me. There was no need to chase them anymore.