Tornadoes just have an other-worldly feel to them. I grew up in Kansas. For my entire life, we had regular tornado drills in school, similar to the fire drills, except we all filed into the basement instead of outside. And we opened the windows instead of closing them.
I've seen the green sky and I've also seen a line straight overhead where the left side was dark green and the other was clear blue. It was incredibly eerie, as still and quiet as could be, no birds, nothing - and then the sirens went off.
In 2001, my grandmother's home of 50 years was a casualty of a large tornado in central Kansas. She had died the year before. The house wasn't leveled but was damaged beyond repair. In a bedroom, one of the windows, casing and all, was lying on the bed. In the living room, most of the chimney was gone, mud was splattered on the walls, but a glass-doored curio cabinet filled with porcelain figurines was unharmed.
I've seen things myself and heard many stories about massive devastation with pockets of undisturbed fragility. It feels completely nonsensical.