The End Of Times

He sat inside, watching tree limbs sway in the wind. Saw an American flag flapping in the breeze. Looked at semis shaking as they drove down 41. A rabbit chased a mole.

The television wasn’t coming in. Just blurred lines with gray snow. Turned on the radio; nothing coming in. Just fuzz. Dog tied to a tree barked.

Hail came down. Hard balls of ice. Baseballs being thrown down from God, he thought. He’s trying to tell us something. Like, maybe it’s time, the man whispered.

He’d been waiting for the end of the world for a while. Stocked up on canned beans and chipped beef. Had cases of water in the garage. Opened a beer as he looked on. Watching a funnel cloud touch down in the north. Sweeping across fields of soy beans and corn. Tearing trailers apart. This is God’s wrath, he said.

And, like that, it was over. He was untouched. Everything around him destroyed. Cars turned over. Debris everywhere. People crying out to God and Lord Jesus.

We’re left, he said. We’re left here on earth. Satan is among us, he called out. Satan is here.

On the radio, a song was playing. Stand By Your Man by Tammy Wynette.

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