Pages

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Murderers Sky (a teaser for you)


It was not without reason that Lucinda was worried about me venturing out into the open air. The sky overhead was disquieting to say the least, and a good many people were worried about exposing themselves to it, though news reports assured the public nobody had been struck ill because of the sky. Yet, as an overcast sky can leave a person brooding and depressed, so this sky left everyone who saw it feeling ill inside, as though there was something terribly wrong in you and in the world around you, and everyone would soon suffer for it.
Had someone sliced open the heavens and spilled their blood into the sky overhead, the result would have been no less grotesque. Yet the discoloration was murkier than blood could ever be, giving it the appearance of infection. If adjectives such as sore and inflamed could apply to the air, they fit this sky.
The firmament was imbued with a most horrific shade of scarlet from horizon to horizon, punctuated here and there with a trace of orange, yellow and even green. Nowhere was there a hint of blue. What few clouds formed in a summer Arizona sky looked like bloated pockets of reddened pus. A red sun glared down by day, and by night the stars bled mournfully while the moon glowered.
The sky was like this the entire world round. Everyone had seen the images on television — the sky over the Eiffel Tower, over Moscow, over the Forbidden City, over the Himalayas, over Antarctica, over Machu Pichu. There were massive protests around the globe, verging on riots. Environmentalists converged with religious fanatics to proclaim the end was at hand. There was no disputing that humans had made a mess of things. Even the President of Exxon-Mobile had to admit some responsibility for the phenomenon.
While I did not agree with Reverend Chassey over at the Holy Redeemer Church that the end-times were here, it was quite clear we were heading for trouble. One look at the sky was enough to assure you that a storm was forming, and humanity would be very lucky if it survived once this tempest passed. It was a time of fearful waiting, punctuated by outbreaks of panic and self-recrimination.



More later from PD Allen
PD Allen's Author Page and Book Page



No comments:

Post a Comment