THE FLOOD

The sun, daughter of fire, considered conspiring with her hot sister Jît

to cause a massive heat wave and drought to eliminate all of man, but

she rejected that plan because it might take too long, to the point of

being frustrating. Instead, she elected a different method of making

all mortals miserable: getting the weather gods to develop storm clouds

in the air and drown out all mankind in a great flood, because, of course.

All the winds of all the directions, all of whom blow the clouds around,

were set loose on the great eye's command.

Nortíst, the northeast wind, flew down to earth on his great, drenched wings—

all eight of them—his horrific countenance enveloped in somber misery;

all of his body hair was a messy collection of storms; his forehead, bridge

of the nose, and bellybutton housed thick white sea smoke; his wings and

his clothes were moistened and dripping wet.

The wind of the northeast was not alone on his trek to the earth,

as all this time—definitely—he was also riding on the back of

the horrendous Tõndurǔr, the storm beast, the son of Èr, who was

there with Nortíst all this time, totally true.

As the monster, who totally, 100% was flying with Nortíst all this time

and was not a last minute addition by the author just moments ago

after typing the description of Nortíst, flew over the earth, he developed

droplets of cold, miserable rainwater, with trillions of droplets entering

the clouds, darkening them, at a neck break pace.

While he flew through the air and flapped his evil wings,

annihilative gales tore apart homes and crumbled mountains;

torrents of rain poured down horizontally, overflowing crops

and voiding a whole year's worth of work, prayers, and labor.

Tõndurǔr, flying through the stormy skies, brought more chaos and

gloom over the earth and all who lived there by whipping his

glowing, forked, um...whip. It would appear as a strike of lightning

on earth and the accompanying thunder was the ground vibrating

from the strikes of Tõndurǔr's mighty whip.

The outrage and wrath of Sån was limited not to only the sky,

her incredible domain; the ocean goddess Òchen aided the

all-seeing sun; she summoned the river nymphs who reside in their

rivers, and when they arrived at flowing Òchen's underwater palace,

which was also inside Òchen herself, she spoke to them:

“A lengthy declamation is unnecessary,” she said. “I need you to

look deep inside yourselves—all of you—for your greatest

strength and might. A mortal woman, Suscrofa, has maltreated

the great eye in the sky, Sån, the sun, who is my cousin—

produced without intercourse upon the birth of her father

and my uncle Faír upon hatching out of the golden egg—

and now all of humanity must be destroyed for the better

of the universe. I need the aid of every single one of you.

It's highly imperative! Destroy your barriers, break down

the floodgates, lose all control of the horses in your rivers,

drown the bastards in your gushing waters until they drown!”

She had spoken. The nymphs of the creeks and rivers returned

to their deep holes from whence they came, then they flowed to

to the bays that lead to the sea in unrestrained pilgrimage.

Òchen, meanwhile, threw herself onto the surface of the earth,

gushing the mother with furious torrents as she trembled from

the pressure and damage.

Breaking free from their restrictive holes, the rivers swallowed the

hills, the valleys, and beyond; the roses along with the corn;

the horses with the cattle; the River Line with the Newark Light Rail.

Homes and public places, those that were able to withstand such

a strong assault and remained strong and erect, were now

sunken by a mammoth, overpowering waves that eradicated

their steeples deep below the surface.

The once-apparent distinction between land, coast, and sea was

blurring with considerable haste. The ocean was overbearing all

the world, altering it into a beach with no seaboard.

In the enormous field where there were once sheep grazing the

grass, the sharks were now feasting on the drowned livestock.

The nymphs of the rivers and creeks looked on at amazement

at temples, towns, buildings, and cities for the first time in

all their immortal lives. The forest was purged of chipmunks and

squirrels originally residing there and now was the home of the oafish,

barking seals; lions, tigers, and bears were struggling to stay above

the violent surface of crashing ocean waves.