Adage

by Kevin Grauke

But the good Lord was not willing, and the creek did rise. A rabid thing, it frothed and foamed, picking up and carrying everything its swollen waters could swallow—trees and tractors, cattle and houses. A muddied mirror of a furious sky. And the storm slackened and slowed not a bit, refusing to forgive the people on its banks their trespasses. “What have we done?” they cried cloudwards. “We’re God-fearing folk! Tell us! We’ll never do it again!” Anxious, sodden, submissive, they waited for a reply. It came as thunder. Thunder, and thunder. And the rain came down like nails.