People were hysterical. Everything that was sane and calm and pure... was lost with that rumor. Whoever started it needs to be silenced. But, I assume that's too late now. It started to drizzle. The once fond memories I had about the summer rain pitter-pattering on mom's porch roof was a thing of the past. A shrewd voice shattered my rose tinted glass.

"It's starting! The Flood! Don't you people get it? It was Him! He started this whole thing!" Another took him by the collar and slammed him against a lamp post. The bulb flickered almost shattered.

"Don't you get it? None of that matters now, you crazy fool. We're doomed and you're doomed along with us!"

A politician was on one of the wealthier balconies observing and was shouting the men below to follow his orders.

"Stop this, at once! All of you! We must collaborate and regroup! This must be a scheme!" They were having none of it. A figure came up from behind him, swiftly, like a breath in the night, gave a great shove- and before you knew it, the figure was just another corpse. It wasn't a man who had spent most of his life barking orders to his servants, nor a man who had a belly full with food and drink. It was just... a death. And that's all what we could make of it. He died like the rest of us. The rain turned to a storm. Then the storm turned into a torrent.