"Twisters downed trees and powerlines in Arkansas leaving thousands without power late Sunday, as forecasters warned that tornadoes and heavy storms could mete out damage to several southeast states into Monday," Reuters reports. And as the following stories attest, twisters can quickly turn deadly for those caught in their paths.

Rick Bragg reported from the scene of a small town tornado. "The destruction of this little country church and the deaths, including the pastor's vivacious 4-year-old daughter, have shaken the faith of many people who live in this deeply religious corner of Alabama, about 80 miles northeast of Birmingham," he writes. "It is not that it has turned them against God. But it has hurt them in a place usually safe from hurt, like a bruise on the soul. They saw friends and family crushed in what they believed to be the safest place on earth, then carried away on makeshift stretchers of splintered church pews."

Thomas Lake helped dramatize the outsized role chance plays in natural disasters. "One year ago Mykal Riley sank a three that kept fans out of the path of a tornado," the Sports Illustrated writer notes. "But Riley would never have been there if not for an intricate web of chance meetings, false starts and a terrible crime."

Lars Anderson wrote about the intersection of athletics and disaster too. "On April 27 the most devastating tornado in Alabama history cut nearly a mile-wide swath through the university town, killing 41," he recounts. "Crimson Tide athletes, haunted by the storm and its aftermath, work to heal a community that has always cheered them on as they try to put their own lives back together."

Julia Keller painstakingly reconstructed a tornado. "Ten seconds. Count it: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Ten seconds was roughly how long it lasted," she writes. "Nobody had a stopwatch, nothing can be proven definitively, but that's the consensus. The tornado that swooped through Utica at 6:09 p.m. April 20 took some 10 seconds to do what it did. Ten seconds is barely a flicker. It's a long, deep breath. It's no time at all. It's an eternity."

And then there's the man who tries to get closer to tornadoes. Charles Graeber profiled him. "It's a sticky Monday in June, and Steve Green is in a rented Chevy Impala, chasing his dream across the Texas border north into Oklahoma. For the past three hours, Green and his team have been tracking a series of explosive storms, any one of which might blow up into a raging tornado. He's got 200 miles, and maybe three hours, to get to the action," he writes. "Tracking tornadoes isn't an uncommon pastime in the Midwest, and right now Interstate 44 is dotted with hundreds of men and women who kiss their lives good-bye each spring, load into cars bristling with satellite and ham radio antennas, and spend April, May, and June pursuing big weather. But while most storm chasers are happy to park a mile away and shoot video, that's not nearly enough for Green. His dream is to drive his car straight in, hit the brakes, and park dead in the middle of a raging twister. Exactly why Green wants to do this is difficult to pin down."