The second coming

“Two moons rise over a darkened field.”

Flash fiction inspired by this prompt provided by WritingPrompts.com

 

 

The longest night began at midday. Heavy cloud hung lower and lower, black as pitch, growling with thunder. Across the valley, a curtain of flickering white fire joined cloud and earth. Here and there, orange flames rose from stricken trees and houses. The longest night would have no morning. They knew that. Somewhere, no doubt, on some distant star, the super-rich would be watching, while they sipped their cosmic Martinis on the shores of a paradisiac sea. But here, now, on the blasted heath that had been the Earth, eternal night had fallen.

Midnight approached, and those who were able raised their heads to the clouds. The rattling white light lit the night like an old silent film. Except the film was not silent. The sky roared. The sea, no longer distant, roared in answer, and the valley became a raging torrent. Midnight. The clouds parted in a magnificent gesture, and the play of lightning ceased. No one breathed. Was it ending? The end, was it over? Was this a new beginning?

The boiling clouds rolled back and the sky, smooth, black and immense was revealed. The world breathed again, and voices rose in a wail of despair. No stars looked down, twinkle-twinkling. No Nativity this. Sailing on the empty seas of the sky, menacing as a pair of nuclear ghostly galleons, twin moons rode higher and higher.

When they reached their apogee, the deluge began.

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