Seagulls called hungrily overhead, their darting forms slipping in and out
of the roiling fog that had crept onto the banks of that old canal. Night
had descended earlier than what was natural, and it didn't go unnoticed.
The birds voiced their objections to the Gods above, grazing cattle
scurrying confusedly into the sturdy wooden fencing that rimmed the
small, muddy farm.

Rain pounded riotously into the damp soil around the Brickson's little
plantation. Farm hands wouldn't dare brave the baleful storm that had
swept in. Cowardice and superstitious speculation spread like a dark
pestilence through their number. By the end of that Friday, most of Mr.
Brickson's hired work had refused to show up. The enfeebled old fossil
was compelled to head out to gather the animals himself.

Gathering his cloak up about him, he struck a sulphur splinter against the
grizzle of his chin, and lit a torch. Shuttering it within its glass confines,
he held it aloft by the brass handle, creaking and shuddering as it swung
from his hand.

Steeling himself, he braced against the roaring torrent of water falling
from the otherwise clear skies. Forcing his weary bones onward, he
trudged through ankle deep muck. He had to usher the cattle back onto
his property, and repair the fence.

Nearing the crest of a nearby hill, his heart lightened in his chest. His
animals had only wandered maybe twenty yards outside the fence, it
would be quick work. Stumbling towards the livestock, his attention was
forced from the herd by the screaming of a woman's voice.

"Blessed is he who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy,
and keep the things that are written in it, for the time is at hand!!"

Confused, the ancient muggle swung his lamp around, staring off into the
black distance. With a resounding crash, lightning stripped the bark from
a nearby tree. The branches erupted into flame, sending a waterfall of
fiery sparks into the surrounding field. The massive oak groaned its death
knell, before splintering at the midsection, and collapsing thunderously.

The latern exploded as electricity pulsed through the air, sending shards
of flaming glass in all directions. His arms and chest cut to ribbons, the
wheezing senior abruptly doubled over, coughing and spitting into soggy
clumps of wet dirt. The voices in his ears were drowned away by the
sound of splashing water in his ears, the rain growing stronger, its resolve
against the Earth increasing.

The fire of his gas lamp had formed a thick ring around him. Dark shapes,
leaping and diving, drove him onto his back, cruel and wicked faces
laughing from the dancing embers. As fire overtook him, he could only
barely make out the forms of two, looming shapes in the distance.

Two women, both crucified upside down, burning alive, screaming their
confessions.

_________________