A storm ferments the sky. He’d stop the dark clouds from gathering if he could. But of course he can not. The experiment will happen.
His father’s familiar booming voice beside him: “Not afraid of a little lightning, are you, Billy?”
As a matter of fact he is. Afraid, that is. Even though in his short score of years he’s seen piles of corpses scalped, seeing one horror doesn’t mean you can withstand others; often the opposite is true. He’s seen men on the streets of Philadelphia who’ve been struck by lightning and they are not as they were before…
Aspiring historical fiction novelist