The evil spirits in the storm are hissing and howling, screeching, chewing the wires and making lights flicker, their long matted hair shakes and frays with the blue lightning, the loud crack of thunder sounds like a giant gun, the low grumble of an unseen stomach, sharp fangs ready to destroy and devour, the skittish and greasy imps whine among the wet pavement and apartment complex of green metal garbage bins, the sickly quadrupedal gait of scurrying to and fro like strange black hyena in the rain.