Clouds

One night, as I was coming down from a decent high, I was walking my dog outside the apartment complex.  It was a warm night but the wind had started to pick up and I could see the storm clouds rolling in from the east.  It was at the time whee half of the sky looks black and you can see the brighter stars, but the other half still had the yellow glow tinged with the orange of the street lamps reflecting off the prettier clouds. So being a touch high I kind of just stopped moving and stared at the darker clouds rolling in thinking, “What if the flood they talk about in the bible was actually a flood of blood.”  Imagine these dark red almost black clouds rolled over your house.  These clouds looking like nothing you’ve ever seen before.  These clouds aren’t fluffy actually.  They seem a little solid, a little viscous.  Then all of a sudden the world is silent and you see the first few drops hit the ground.  You look down at the drops at your feet and notice they haven’t exactly soaked into the ground.  It looks like mud, but you kneel down and inspect them.  You see it’s not mud, and it isn’t seeping into the ground.  It looks vaguely familiar you’ve seen it often enough and with a sudden realization of horror you see that it’s blood. Blood is falling from the sky.  The blood rain becomes heavier and with a sickness in your stomach you run for the nearest shelter.  Hours go by but it’s only gotten heavier.  The heavy metallic smell is everywhere and it’s begun to leak into the houses.  The water reservoirs have been ruined and only a small amount is left per household.   Days go by and people are desperate.  Some have tried to get by with drinking the blood water, but have become sick almost immediately.  Weeks go by and starvation is setting in, the livestock is dead from thirst and the blood rain seems to ruin everything.  The people that are still alive have moved to higher ground as the red rivers have risen engulfing the lower houses and land in a gelatinous and crimson goop. There is a red tint to their skin.  Starvation, insanity, and death ravage the land as the blood continues to fall and smother everything.

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Migration

I think about birds.  Flying from cold to warm.  Butterflies traveling oceans to sleep.  I think about people escaping horror to find peace.  Because it doesn’t matter if you put an i in front of this word.  This is still one world.  A person migrates and immigrates simultaneously.  We just use one word for animals and the other for people. Because people put up imaginary lines separating one piece of land from the other.  We give them colors on a map. But America isn’t blue, and Africa isn’t green.  But the blood inside you is the same color as is in me.