I was stargazing the when the sky bled. I watched as the ominous black puffs of smoke hung over the world with an almost sentient presence, and dispatched the crimson rain. I watched from the distance as every crimson droplet graced the earth with moisture, leaving only a wisp of smoke in place of any structure unfortunate enough to attempt to halt the rain’s descent. I watched the trees and vegetation melt away and become liquidized, proceeding then to glide across the landscape, eradicating it of any and all forms of life. The stars I had been peering upon began to flicker as the storm that delivered the shower of blood began to migrate toward my vicinity. On its inevitable trek, it passed over the city I grew up in, the one I had known all my life, the home of every fond childhood memory I possessed, as well as the recollection of every struggle I had endured in my upbringing.
It was a hot summer night in this city, and the children, who had begged their parents to let them stay out just a little later, were still playing in the parks and fields, as oblivious to the impending storm as they were to the approaching school year. As the rain began to drizzle, the little children tried in desperation to catch the droplets on their tiny tongues whilst they continued to play and scream with laughter. Their screams seemed to change and become more discordant as the rain grew heavier. I watched as every droplet disintegrated another portion of their fragile flesh. The screams continued to change as what were once children became unrecognizable globs of red elixir, with flashes of pearlescent bone occasionally breaking the pulsing surface; it sounded almost as if someone was playfully slowing down a record until it was unrecognizable and little more than a dull hum. The sound eventually faded into the roar of rushing water just as what was once a group of beautiful children melted into the liquidized remains of the city.
The storm continued in my direction, leaving a great crimson swirling sea in its wake. As it approached, a divine stench that seemed to be the composed of the smells of burning chemicals, rotting flesh, and something indubitably sweet, perhaps honey or cinnamon rolls, overtook me with a gust of wind, tussling my hair uncomfortably, not unlike how my father often would, and suspending my lawn chair on its back two legs for a brief moment before crashing back down onto all fours. It seemed that judgment had come for me at last. The stars had long since fled this grotesque scene, leaving me alone with the great red sea and the impending storm. I folded up my chair and started back towards my cabin. The ground behind me sizzled and smoked as I walked. Upon entering my place of residence, I closed the back door, but didn’t bother locking it. I took off my hat and shoes and put out the candle on the dresser at my bedside. I laid down for the last time in my old and worn out bed, covering up with my grandmother’s quilt despite the summer heat. As I drifted off to sleep, I recall quite clearly the oddly pleasant sound of rain drops on the roof of my cabin.