The sky split and fractured with the approaching storm. All those in its wake frantically secured their belongings and boarded up their doors and windows. The underbelly of the beastly cloud rolled hastily in their direction, undulating grays to electric blues and flickering flashes resounding with whip-cracks that filled them all with dread.
The last storm with this similar menace hovered over their village for more than a week. It relentlessly beat on their shacks with pounding rain and shook them with terror at the sound of every explosion. Families huddled close for comfort throughout the entire event. Fortunately, only livestock was lost in the storm. The owner of the livestock was known to blaspheme and speak sourly of the ones above in his drunken stupors. The high ones never sit idly and allow for such ill will to go unnoticed.
Rumor has it, a few in the village have been plotting rebellion against the ones in the sky and if those above have uncovered the coming coup, then the village is in for a storm unlike any other it has previously seen.
The last windows were covered and the final doors were shut, and the faithful began their benedictions and pleas for pity as a nearby clap boomed in the air above them. The storm had reached the village. Another blast rang out and with it a small hut splintered and caught fire. No mercy will be found in this storm.
A Page a Day 