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The general stood atop a hill and surveyed the land before him. The enemy was camped across the dry valley below, a silent force of impending doom. Turning to his tent, the general began to plot his course of action for the battle that would be fought that day. This was the battle that would win or lose the war; millions of lives would be decided in the course of a few hours. The general paused at the entrance to the tent and looked to the sky. It was an oppressively hot day, and there were dark thunderstorms brooding on the horizon.

The general entered the tent and sat down at a small table with his advisors. One lay a map of the terrain on the table and began explaining the key features that must be won at all cost. The main problem would be crossing the valley under fire and climbing the hills on the other side. Ideas were hotly debated and discarded, till at last they arrived at a plan. A diversionary force would make a frontal assault as the main body made its way through thick brush and attacked on the left flank.

As the advisors pontificated the general felt a tug on his sleeve. He turned and saw a young boy, the son of a man who regularly came to sell things to the soldiers. “Sir, the storms are”… but he never finished the sentence. “Run along, go back to your father” said the general, sounding quite patronizing. The boy stood there, waiting impatiently for the advisors to pause for a breath. When after several minutes they were still blasting hot air, he tried again. “Sir!” he said, half yelling to be heard over the din. The general turned to the boy with a look of annoyance. He strained to remain calm as he spoke. “Now see here” he said. “You can’t just come barging in here, we are planning important strategy. Who let you in anyway?” The boy’s shoulders sagged as he headed out of the tent. Having taken care of the temporary annoyance, the general returned to planning.

The boy was not to be dissuaded so easily, however. Once outside he began pestering the guard at the door of the tent. “I have important information that I must give to the general, but he won’t listen to me!” “Ooooh” said the guard, throwing his hands up in mock terror. “Are the barbarians attacking? Or maybe it’s werewolves this time.” “No!” said the boy. “No one is attacking”. “Then go back to your father” said the guard, “I suspect we will be moving out shortly.” At this the boy tried to charge back into the tent, but the guard grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “This game has gone far enough, if you won’t go home, perhaps we’re just going to have to lock you up for a while.”

As the boy was dragged off the general and his advisors emerged from the tent. Orders flew as the massive military machine came to life, sending men to their untimely deaths with great precision.

At this moment the thunderstorms finished their brooding, and announced their conclusion with a resounding clap of thunder. Sheets of hard rain began falling, quickly turning the dusty ground into mud. The general viewed the scene with a pleased look on his face. The thick rain would keep the main body from being detected as they made their way toward the left flank. He ordered the men to move faster.

The boy looked out a small window in his dark cell, and saw the rain coming down as the soldiers rushed across the valley. He sank to the floor and wept long and hard.

Suddenly, the men stopped their headlong rush into glorious oblivion, as they heard a roar coming from all around. All other sounds seemed to fade away as they saw the wall of water heading towards them, rushing down what was in fact a dry riverbed. Many tried to run back, but got hopelessly bogged down in the thick mud. The water rushed over them, and the mud pulled them down.

When the sun came out it shone on a scene of utter destruction. Where the camp had been there was only scattered debris. To one side were the remains of a cell, with a hand still raised in warning above the drying sand.

So consider well, dear reader, the meaning of this story. The storms are here.

Disclaimer:

All the details of this story, if there are any, are correct. The one exception is the vast majority, which are complete rubbish. If you understood that the first time then you are a very smart person and should get a degree that would allow you to spend the rest of your life studying the abductor muscle of a scallop. If scallops don’t have abductor muscles then you’re out of luck and will spend the rest of your life wandering the streets of New York Mumbling to your self. Have a nice day.