Time seems to accelerate, as you stand alone in the front room, listening intently to the roar of the wind - listening for something telltale when that telltale something happens. The outside corner of the building takes a hit, from what you don't know, as loud as a car bumping into the foundation. Two men come in to the front room. Seeing nothing they return to the bar. Soon after, the wind picks up, more intense, more frequent bursts. And with each burst the building seems to shift a bit on its foundation. The rain is now coming in sheets, then subsiding, only to be pummeled by another pulsating wave of more intense hail-force rain. New and different noises come from the upstairs rooms, unnatural sounds like the top being torn off a giant beer can, high pitched screeches and angry bellowing roars. Again your mind puts an image with those sounds - hellish, slimy creatures roaming the halls above, slithering over one another and down the stairs. Outside on the front porch, your imagination hears what seems like frightened animals running wild in search of safety, bumping against the walls and one another, madly howling. Then comes the random pelting sound of projectiles being thrown at the siding. The building creaks and shivers as if it too is afraid, wants to run, but has nowhere to hide. Each time a new wave of sounds or vibrations hits, the voices in the other room quiet - anticipating the beginning of the most awful part of what they know is coming. Something out of their control, like only a rage can be, with the power to outgrow its own control.

Just when you're coping a bit better with what you think is coming, you have a new sensation: the pressure in your ears, the strange sensation that air is being sucked from the building and from your lungs. As you walk past the grandfather clock the minute hand is ten minutes behind where it was when you last saw it. It's then that you spot the hour hand and realize fifty minutes have gone by while you were in the front room. Talking in the bar has stopped, when you enter the room. Even stranger, you don't see anyone. Did they already head for the wine cellar and leave you here alone? Then comes a lone voice from someone crouched behind the bar - almost deafened by the wind.
"Oh, lord."
You come closer.
Then another voice off to the left, "My god!"
Then a third sound, simply a moan, from the right.
Another further down.
"Did you see that?
This time the person speaking lifts his head away from the wall. Like the others he's found a tiny hole in the plywood through which to watch the onslaught outside.
"Did you see that?
"What?"