Jim.

The irascible Gods have showered their rage.

So it had been prognosticated, the coming of the flowing plague. Decrepit and surly, old Ghetzopa sat mumbling about in his shack, his admonishes unheeded. We all thought him to be a charlatan, a desultory loony crack.

But as the tides lashed and spat, the very land itself shook and crumbled, his adages overwhelmed me flouncing in my head. “Don’t be afraid; give in to the will of the beast.”

Helplessly we witnessed the cataclysmic carnage that befell upon our homes. The inexorable current dragging away everything I knew in this world. I gave up my defiance.

My strength broken, the beast engulfed and catapulted me into a spinning vortex of a thousand skies. Unimaginable visions reified up as I was thrown miles away beyond our horizons, beyond the untamable acclivities of ever varying mountains. In the throes of my certain grave, I prayed, I remembered, I cried and I trembled.

When I awoke it was still. It was after the calm that dawn brought along a gargantuan silhouette. Child’s play; and I was the marionette. I became the newest addition to the arsenal, playing my part in mortifying young girls and driving them to tears. Then darkness fell.

Jim, the earthworm.