Engulfed by charlatans, chaos, and confusion – we gotta go – we gotta leave now before it’s too late. Truth is dead, evil is virtue, compassion is weakness, hope is buried, confusion rampant. Money and power all that matter.
“But that ain’t us, is it darling? I pull her close, give her a kiss and a hug for luck and courage. We might escape if we leave before they close the gates.” Our big red truck idles ready. She nods, pulls a blue bandana over her nose and mouth, checks to make sure the kids in the back are secure. Acrid smoke swirls past and lightning flashes across the darkening sky.
Wildflowers surrounded our cabin, the crooked interior was warm lit by the glow of a wood fire on a rainy spring morning. We rolled over sleepy in our comforter and made slow sweet love in the gray dawn. A mockingbird sang, doves cooed and the cat mwerped for his breakfast. Later, we roasted fresh dug oysters over the fire pit while the little ones cavorted in the creek spangled by flung water and afternoon sunshine.
The sun rose lurid, hazy orange over miles of stranded traffic. Power failed, lights flickered and dimmed. Somewhere, a shot; and a scream – sirens. Storm clouds billowed on the horizon. The wind stirred and yowled down endless, clanking, crowded streets. The ocean rose and roared ashore.