(continued … )
(Scene: Dark warehouse near End of the Line Tavern in the year 2525)
A spike of cold air pushed through in that two seconds it took for the door to close. It’s already turned cold. Usually a bad sign. Means another cycle will start. Just hope it’s a small one spinning this time.
Tornadoes and Hurricanes have become more and more like the same thing, the bigger and more widespread they become.
Prosby saw the shadows, slipping to the corners. Rats? Birds? Ghosts?
The darkness was virtually absolute, few had working power in this part of the US, even when there wasn’t a storm. The stars popped out of their sockets. The skies’eyes.
Prosby never saw it, didn’t remember it. The blow to the temple.
Prosby remembered the cold before the pain, perhaps a good sign. He remember the voice. It was like a child’s.
“How are you Mr. Prosby? Can I get you something to drink?”ed
{To Be Continued … }
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