There are peals of thunder, getting
ever closer. Brief flashes of lightning
blind those who are unprepared. They will
see again in due time. The tall man
dressed all in white carries a small box
across the threshold, and enters a room
which dwarfs him. He places the box carefully
on a silver table, and leaves the room walking
backwards. The good boy helps his mother until
everything is finished. He is the last to leave
the library, the door locks automatically…
The thunder is upon us. It’s the same story
we’ve heard before but this time we’re living it.
The fear of earthquakes is genuine. People touch
the earth just to be certain. Some claim to have
found seams which are opening. Others look up
into an empty sky with blind eyes, and stretch
out their arms in a mute appeal. To whom are they
appealing? The prophet who lives next door
shakes his head. He looks fixedly at the earth,
and says without emotion, ‘It’s the same old story:
We are the most ancient bloodline. Our responsibilities
are manifold. We must drink the whole cup
of milk before it turns into blood.’ Lightning
punctuates his words. He gropes forward, with
apparent purpose, past a barn with no animals.
They have a sixth sense and left weeks ago.
Their whereabouts is unknown… The earth
is rumbling. Has the time of earthquakes arrived?
The Final Premonitions
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