Letters from a Survivor: Scarcity

I used to enjoy listening to the rain. Watching from my bedroom window, the skies would darken, bringing a gentle, cleansing shower. Our crops refreshed; our stores renewed. The dirt and grime of recent troubles washed away.

That was a long time ago. Now I fear the darkening skies. No longer do they bring the tender kiss of rain, but a torrent of wind and water, bent only on destruction.

Sometimes they keep the unfathomable deluge back, in favour of the myriad spears of light and sound. Crashing and crackling down with thunderous calamity.

Worse still are the storms that one could only describe as waves of fire. Great clouds of flame rolling across the land, burning and consuming everything in their path. Helplessly cursed are those who bare witness to these...