Flowing in the water his eyes probe mercilessly for the dark. No were to run. Steaming from the Lillie pad a simmering path of white. The horse moved rigorously through the background. He wants to run away, and he notices they are coming anyway. Even a child playing in the trees cannot stop them.
The rain comes down, the china tea cups are overloaded. Burning like sugar in gaudy variations. The milk boiling oil.
Over the ocean, a hovercraft was spinning rotors in the fog. It was amazing how it performed.
Is it time for them to hear his story?