It's now time for just the terror with Nick Guerra. Life, death, you.

Most of us feel quite safe when the weather turns bad. We have houses, castles of steel, plaster, and wood.

We have television and the internet, systems to warn us about anything actually dangerous.

Modern life serves every need.

Aside from natural disasters, weather rarely poses a problem in the 21st century.

Gone are the days of muddy caves of huts and villages. Now we live in

monuments to our achievement. And so when rain comes down in sheets, when cracks of

light split the air open and reverberating rumbles follow, we feel

nothing but excitement.

But sometimes, the atmosphere beyond our walls is violent enough to un-nervous. The wind is powerful enough to make our

houses creek and the tap of the rain turns into a roar. Then thunder erupts just outside,

impossibly loud.

The ground shakes, and for a moment,

a primal urge to hide takes over.

Our instincts are buried deep,

but the untamed might of a storm can dredge them up because at the core

we're still frightened animals. We just upgraded our caves. It was on such a

thunderous night that I spoke to the soul-eater.

I'd finished my evening rituals and crawled under the sheets.

The noise of the rain comforted me at first, a soothing static lull.

But when the storm intensified, my breath grew shallow with anxiety.

I've never bothered with psychiatric help,

...