The World Literarians
The lightning kept flashing, slicing the opaque darkness like a watermelon. Up ahead, in each streak of light, a small house could be seen. It set off the road a way under a tree; it’s black branches writhing in the wind, lashing the roof of the house beneath it. Sometimes the lightning hit the windows of the house and they glared like angry eyes - eyes that, in the torrents of rain, looked like they were crying. Somewhere in the night a cat screamed...then another...or was it a cat? Amid the roar of thunder the spine-freezing shriek came again...cat? Or woman? The cries seemed to be coming from the darkened house...? He heard it again...Cat? No. No cat...woman!--Kiroi, Korea'Come on, Bil Baby,' he tell to himself, 'keep the feet going!' He fall down again. Then some more. He can’t know if finger is still bleed, mud won’t see. All over everything mud. Lightning hit mud puddle and splatter more mud. But Bilford strong, he get up and still running.
