In the West flows a mighty river. Down mountains, over rocks and boulders, through trees it runs. Strong and unabated it slides toward civilization. No dam or levee can hold back the fierce flood. But it neither splashes nor sparkles in the sun. It’s pools and eddies are dark. It reflects nothing and chokes all beings it overtakes. Dry and noisome, it is a river of smoke.
The West is on fire.
Image by Jeremy Thomas via Unsplash.com
A drabble
“I woke up, found soot everywhere and though it was Armageddon.” Cough
“Smoke and ash raining from the sky.”
“And speaking of rain, what about the hurricanes and floods?” Cough
“Yes, it is positively biblical!
“Sun to darkness, moon to blood.” Cough
“All before that great and awesome day when the lord returns.”
“Global warming, pssh.” Cough, cough
“End of days more like.”
“God will punish the wicked.” Cough, cough, cough
Cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, cough…silence.
“Mildred!”
“She’s not breathing! Someone help!”
“No pulse, ma’am.”
“But she’ll miss the rapture.”
“Sorry ma’am.”
Photo by Bjorn Tore Okland on unsplash
a drabble by Becky Kjelstrom
The Grundvig chin. The whole family gets it. Dominant gene. My baby won’t. CRSPR is new officially not for sale. My baby will have a perfect chin. Money buys on demand birth and good drugs. But I still have to push. C-Section leaves a scar, visible if you go Brazilian.
Despite the numbness, I feel her coming. She’s howling mad. Mate cuts the cord, nurse wipes her off and hands her to me. I look at baby, mate, baby. My turn to howl, raw anguish.
The Wilson receding chin. Recessive gene. We didn’t correct for that.
