Tuesday 23 July 2013

The air is rent by flashes

As I write, the most violent rain and thunderstorm I can ever remember in my little corner of the world has been underway for about 4 hours now. The air is nauseating with a stench of burnt ozone, and is as thick as treacle.

The rain has caused flash floods four feet deep in places. A river of tarmacced water runs past my home bearing leaves and branches and drinks cans, taking them far out to sea.

Conditions are ripe for strange things to happen, cars struck by lightning and disappeared back in time like The Philadeplthia Experiment. Creatures could take advantage of the flooding and arise from the drains and gulleys in mutated form to seek warm flesh amongst the bedraggled populace.

Cyclists electrified by malicious sky gods, pressure headaches so severe your sinuses burst and your eyeballs are forced out into the waterfalls of water upon the pavement. I may yet walk home and see sprite gods above the anvil clouds, and exchange pleasantries with inhuman demons who will leave me alone as they know I feel as little as they do.

Then they head to the houses of innocents to wreak carnage before returning to the sewers as I sleep undisturbed.

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