As the afternoon passes like a record slowly spinning at the wrong speed our world grows slowly darker.
We begin to seek shelter indoors. There are lights on and blinds drawn all around. The streets are quiet, we’re safe from the deluge outside.
Maybe not, soon there is a violent drumming on the roof and loud tapping on the windows. Which spirit is it that seeks us?
The rumbling in the roof space continues well into the night.
Rain and wind lashed our little community with disdain.
In that darkest hour just before dawn we were all awoken by the crash. No one in the village dare to leave their homes.
In the morning gingerly, we stepped outside.