The dark times arrived-
Mushrooms danced in the wind.
The air stifled the living, twigs writhing in agony.
The wall went pitch black.
Beady eyes trailed into a smile, a stare that pierced many hearts-
A loyal worshipper, a little devil.
His hands, hooked and haunted –
His silhouette signaled an oncoming wave of drought and despair.
A smoke erupted – rainbows flashed.
An onlooker passed by-
“What the hell is going on here?!” demanded the Village Chief.
He darted.
“Mother Lima!”
Castor and cotton lay to waste.
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