The Dirty Rain – An Epic of Catastrophe
It was a lonely Monday when the rain came
No thunder, no lightning, no fanfare
Clouds rolled in on whispers
The skies went from gold to a dingy grey
For a brief moment, time stood still
Silence…
And then the first few dirty droplets came down
Within minutes it was a soaker
Fat and heavy like a cleansing rain
After months of dust, smoke and pollen
The rain seemed like a small miracle
But this rain was different
Not clear, not grey or black either
And there was no hint of pollen
This rain was dirty brown like falling sludge
And it had an odd greasy appearance
The drops hit the ground brown and sticky
And they left a nasty residue which had a life of its own
Thick and slow-moving, like mudslide mud or maple syrup
It was the talk of the town; every town in fact
Puddles forming slowly, more like slop troughs
Odd miniature quagmires that you just had to avoid
And there was a smell, something like compost and wet decay
But no one questioned it; it was rain and rain was good
Nothing to be concerned about, probably just cleaning the sky
At least not at first
After the fourth continuous day
Sidewalks became one with the landscape
Some back roads were following close behind
Everything was both slippery and gooey at the same time
And the land was growing darker by the hour
Lots of talk, lots of questions
Country folk were getting nervous
There were crops in the fields and cows out to pasture
And the sun just couldn’t seem to break through
But no official statement emerged
It seemed like a slow waiting game was in play
Days five and six passed
The dirty rain kept falling, steady and unchanged
‘Dirty rain’
That’s what the news media called it now
The weather reporters got a little extra air time
And a few expert interviews from the know it all’s
But no real explanation, just speculation
Slow and steady, the dirty rain kept falling
No one really seemed to focus on the enormity
Dirty rain was falling over every state and every nation
The skies quietly bubbled like a simmering cauldron
And the sun was nowhere to be seen
Days seven and eight came and went
No longer were the concerns made in whispers
A genuine fear was growing as some went to higher ground
Most lowland roads were impassable
Businesses were shuttered and preparations made
Questions flew, tempers flared, some came to blows
Rivers and streams were choking, turbines frozen
Storm drains clogged and mostly overflowing
Ten days in and still no change
About then resources started getting scarce
Blackouts with no one coming to fix broken lines
Basements flooded and foundations buckling
Conversations now shifted to darker things
Apocalyptic and terrifying times seemed to be upon humankind
Bible-thumpers citing Revelations, but no one was listening
End of days and a great reckoning, said the voice on the radio
Standing room only at the alter of salvation, he said
While the people trapped in the darkness prayed
But it didn’t matter; salvation wasn’t coming
Seventeen days into the deluge
Engineering finally met its match
The great dams finally surrendered to the dirty rain
Devastation reigned as swollen rivers lashed out in fury
Banks and levees were swept away in great torrents
And many of the great basins simply disappeared
Crops and houses quietly slipped beneath the water
Families and livestock were submerged and lost forever
And still the merciless dirty rain kept falling
Day thirty came, chaos reigned
The world population was halved and halved again
Survivors desperately hiked to higher ground
But higher ground was running out in most places
The crop lands were gone, now a giant lake
Great European seas became one and deserts were swallowed
Night and day no longer different from one another
Temperatures continued falling and the world was halved again
Fuel exhausted until finally no fires remained
For the first time in history, the world was completely dark
Hunger grew, as did fear and disease
The world was halved again and again and again
Pockets of survivors kept climbing higher and higher
And still the skies spilled forth with dirty rain
The faithful ones pinned all their hope on day forty
But it too came and went, and the world was halved again
The oceans met the rivers and the great churn began
Tides just rippled with no beaches to lap upon
Marine life disappeared as the dirt water suffocated the sea water
No fish nor fowl survivors, nor any of the four-legged kinds
The high ground collapsing as the dirty rain saturation remained
On day fifty-six, the last northern ice became water
Eons of trapped bacteria entered the now-polluted seas
A thick mucous of putrid decay covered the surface
Bloated beasts moved on the endless waves like abandoned garbage
House now driftwood, cars now sea anchors
And the world was halved and halved again
Day seventy nine passed and the last of the corpses disappeared
Decomposition had run its course and the sinking commenced
Only tiny nubs of land remained; once great mountains
Even the mountain evergreens lost their struggle
And the halving was no longer worth keeping record of
For humankind was but a tiny fraction of its former glory
And then came day ninety nine
The dirty rain slowed and finally came to a stop
Gale force winds swept in from the west and there was a great folding
Clouds buckled then collapsed altogether
Then without a sound they vanished into history
And on the morning of the one hundredth day
Without a sound, the sun rose
For a brief moment, time stood still
Silence…
And the few that survived rejoiced
The dirty rain was no more
Additional Reading
If you enjoyed The Dirty Rain – An Epic of Catastrophe and would like to read more from this author, here are some suggestions.
R. J. Schwartz is the owner of this website as well as The Gypsy Thread website (and the author of all of its content). Use this link to go to the main page and explore articles on the unexplained, poetry, witchcraft, pagan history, and to find Full Moon and Pagan Rituals (all of which are free to use).
If you’re are a writer looking for a place to get started, contact me directly at poet@gmx.us – put ‘Creative Exiles’ in the subject line.
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And a new world begins. What a horrible way to end a way of living and life. This is a tense, emotive epic of catastrophe, an Apocalypse! Great work, Ralph.
Very tense, but what ana awesome piece…love it…
Very dramatic and a great read. I was on the edge of my seat. Jamie