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Day One Thousand One Hundred Thirty Five #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

My old dream disturbed my slumber over night. The one in which blood dripped incessantly. But this time there were bodies afloat on the flood. There were stacks of them across the plain that disentangled from one another as the tide rose.

Once underway I broached the subject with Elijah. He was silent for the longest time after I finished speaking.

Reuben, who had been listening from the beginning, asked me if our angel were responsible. He meant for the carnage depicted, of course. Elijah broke in and confirmed this guess, but also went on to explain that he most likely was responsible for the dream itself.

At that instant we rounded a bend and saw Stan’s sacrificial high place.

About rwoz2

Poet, historian, writer for stage and screen. Responder to Jesus (Romans 5:8)

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