Rain fell so hard for so long it gelled into crystalline pillars joining earth and sky. Up and down, day and night, meant nothing. Lightning unending turned horizon-wide clouds into ruddy flaming coals.
Our little town, drenched, soaked white, shut between planes of earth and fire. Our people, scared out of reason, diminished to temperaments, phlegmatic or sanguine or melancholy.
River salmon swam up the rain to spawn in clouds, fell back smoking, lightning-fried. My mother, thrifty as ever, cheerful and humming, found three dozen ways to dress and garnish them and feed us all. It was enough.