Today on Drabble Wednesday look to the horizon, there are storms coming…
Only the tower remains to greet the lightning.
Charred, broken, but still standing. A lingering monument to a decimated civilization.
A monument to the storms.
It was not always so, the skies did not always seethe with the bite of electricity. Once they shone with a soft warm sun, coloured a pale blue and white. Not the bleeding amethyst and white anger now reflected in the clouds.
Why and how the storms came is lost to time. Stories passed on from survivors told of different reasons, perhaps none, perhaps all, the truth.
Now only the tower remains. Only the storms.
I stare at the burning sky.
I am alone, surrounded by millions of people. We are all alone as we wait for death. Wait for our planet to die.
I wonder how long it will take?
Will the atmosphere consume itself, leaving inhabitants to slowly asphyxiate from lack of breathable air? Or will it rain poison down upon us? Will we burn as well? Will it hurt? Or will we close our eyes and gently fall into the arms of death?
All these thoughts rush through my mind.
I stare at the burning sky and wait for the inevitable.
“The sunset sure makes those storms clouds look pretty. All shadows and pink, with a little glow underneath. Funny how that is. That something fixing to be ornery can be so pretty when it starts.” I smile at Jeb. “Sort of how our marriage commenced. It was agreeable in the beginning. All pretty like those clouds. Sorry how things turned out.”
Jeb didn’t answer. ‘Cept for his moaning. I don’t blame him none. On account of my shooting him and all. Yep, having a hole in your gut kills the conversating. ‘Tis annoying, though, his lingering. Hope he dies soon.
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