It was a dark, lightning dotted night. The rain fell with a purpose to wound, as it danced in the wind, slapping against the chemist’s bare arms. His horses stirred, agitated by the weather, yet he pushed forward along the slanting dirt road.
Among the black maple trees, on this lone hill in the deserted back country of Kentucky, he fights the weather, searching out shelter in the dead of night. With him are his last chance at life: Two souls rest at home, away from the horror, as he plods forward with his newly aged bourbon.
Another bolt lights up the sky, feasting on another charred maple, igniting the surrounding area with a sickly sweet charcoal. The horses spook at the light, the noise, the smell, and the cart lunches off, twisting against the beasts.
As he falls, the chemist sees his bounty smash against another uncaring tree. The…
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