Tanmay And The Dancing Wind Storm

Tanmay lay flat on his stomach in the backyard, his worn sneakers kicking the air. He flipped open his discovery journal, a gift from his grandmother. "Let's see," he muttered, using his magnifying glass to inspect a line of marching ants. His straight black hair stuck up in the back as a gentle breeze rustled his bright turquoise t-shirt. Suddenly, the air grew perfectly still. Then, it rushed backward. Tanmay's warm brown eyes widened. Right in the middle of the yard, the wind began to spin. It scooped up red, yellow, and orange autumn leaves, twisting them higher and higher until a giant, swirling tower of leaves danced across the grass. "How is it doing that?" Tanmay gasped. The spinning tower wobbled, then zoomed straight toward him. Whoosh! The wind snatched the loose pages of his discovery journal right out of his hands. The colorful leaves and his precious notes swirled thirty feet into the air, scattering his outdoor camp and tossing his tan backpack into the bushes. The yard was in total chaos.