Secret First Draft: Member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

In the morning thunder is the message, the godhead spurring

her from sleep, shaking her lucid, demanding her to rise, run,

go to the mountain and request the journey. Return to her

dead family, return to her burned home, return to her friends

echoes, their forms metamorphosed into ghosts. And in the

night, all is silent, the storm having passed, the godhead gone.

And in the longest hours she lingers questioning, where the

lightning came, why it flashed, how it struck her flesh, stole

her comfort, seared her bones, electrified her numb, and why

she answered the thunder’s call, why she ever thought to

trust a god, and its wares, peddling its new lives and journeys

she comes to doubt all things above her, all things bright and

hot and shining. When she sleeps, the godhead comes, and

fills her with truth and gratitude and love and bravery. Years


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