I had been in the country on a sunny day and the sky was blue and cloudless. I was strolling leisurely without a care in the world across a field of golden corn. I had felt serene and happy – nothing was in my mind to perturb me.
And then the voice spoke to me: “You must hurry to the village because it is going to rain and there is no shelter here.”
I had looked around but I had been unable to see anyone.
I had thought: But there isn’t a cloud in the sky, it isn’t going to rain.
The voice had spoken again: “There is going to be a terrible deluge and many will perish. Make your way to the village and then to the church where you must enter and then climb the inside of the spire as high as you can. The waters are going to rise high.”
The voice was calm and beyond gender yet it was also compelling, hypnotic – I had to obey.
I had then walked down the footpath to the village which lay a little way down and nestled between two gentle hills. As I had hurried clouds began to form and the sky had darkened – ominously.
I had found the church and pushed open the door. Nobody was around and I found the stairs to the top of the spire and as I did I began to hear the sound of the rain as it began to fell – the voice had been right and I now regretted not listening to the voice in the past.
As I climbed the stairs I started to feel fear, real fear, but I also began to feel very tired and weary. Outside the stone walls I could hear the torrential rain and I knew that there was going to be a flood.
My limbs were now very heavy and I feared that I would never reach the top and that the waters would catch me up and that I would drown. And then I heard a crash and it was the spire collapsing and as it did I felt the rain landing on me as I lay exhausted on the old wooden steps. I knew I could go no further and as I lay there much to my surprise I found the water was warm and that it was pleasant, extremely pleasant just to lie there and drift off to sleep…