AlvernoINK Spring / Fall 2017 - Page 28

Prelude to the Flame

“I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud: and a rainbow was upon his head, and his face was as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire: And he had in his hand a little book open: and he set his right foot upon the sea, and his left foot on the earth, And cried with a loud voice, as when a lion roared: and when he had cried, seven thunders uttered their voices.”

—Revelation Chapter 10 verse 1

Our Secluded Sanctuary

Grandma and I were country folk. We were only used to experiencing pitch black nights. On some lucky nights we could see shooting stars and the aurora borealis yet most nights the barren land we called home was covered in darkness. We had lived on top of a huge dirt hill as long as I could remember. It was the only non-manmade landmark left for miles. Our hill served as a quiet crevice, housed between an electric metal fence which divided us and our dilapidated wooden shack from the tyrannies of technology. Our shack was a small dot placed upon the bleak horizon, but it served as a beacon of simplicity. Especially for those who wanted to break free from the rows after rows of neatly ordered metal cased buildings beneath us.

“It’s not common for a blazing light to shine so bright at night”.

These constricting buildings were filled to the brim. They were filled to the brim like life sized tin cans, but the buildings originally looked empty on the outside. If one looked closer, they could have seen

© Morgan Raddatz, 2017.