Spellman is an Athens county resident and a long-time fan of the fantasy, science fiction, and horror genres. The staff at Ravens' Light is proud to feature her work.
Chaos Cloud Takes Virginia
By Jennifer Spellman
Well, maybe not everyone – the hill folk grumbled about the end times, but we fine gentlemen and ladies of Richmond knew better than to listen by now. Our grammies and grampas had been muttering about Revelations great and small ever since they’d been grammies and grampas. No one paid attention anymore. It looked too rural.
Instead, we listened to the weathermen speaking sagely of freak cold fronts and supercells. We all got out our umbrella and slickers, canceled golfing plans, and let the dogs in the house for the day. None of which did any good, of course, except maybe putting the dogs in.
My first clue that something was weird was when Jenkins popped by my cubicle just before my 10 o’clock smoke break, leaning over my desk. “You gonna go grab a smoke?”
“Of course,” I grunted, not looking up from the Butler-Smythe account I’d been mired in all morning.
“Well, you might want to reconsider that,” he said in a funny kind of voice.
I looked up, puzzled, and noticed he wasn’t looking too good. Kinda pale and cheesy. Damp, too. “Why? That ol’ thunderstorm broke? I hadn’t heard any booming.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t his deep chuckle; it almost sounded like he was choking on it. “You might rightly say that, yes, you could.” He cleared his throat. I figured he must be getting sick, so I leaned away from him, not wanting to bring home another goddam cold to Mary and the kids. “Maybe you oughta just go on and see for yourself.”
He was kinda ticking me off, so I got up and grabbed my slicker. “I’ll do that. A little wet ain’t gonna stop me from having my morning smoke.”
Jenkins hacked out that queer strangled chuckle again, then wandered off toward his cubicle. Not rightly sure what became of him – I didn’t see him again after. I just hope he ain’t still on our floor.
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