- A: "Couldn't stop thinking about her, she was really spritely"
- B: "As in an electrical discharge that occurs high above the cumulonimbus cloud of an active thunderstorm"
- A: "What? No, sorry she was sprightly."
It was a downpour that nearly muffled the thunder. Streets running wet with rain, nothing could damper the pub goers’ spirits but the taps running dry. Harmoniously, conversations began to synchronize with the pitter patter on the roof of the patio. Many would even stop mid-word after flashes of lightning in anticipation for the thunder.
After the rain let up they all took cabs home leaving their rain-washed cars for tomorrow. They didn’t know how to drive on roads this wet… they were also quite drunk.
As they dug through the trash pile their minds grew mad by the endless scrawling on preserved Chipotle wrappers. “What arcane force could have driven these people to such insanity” they wondered.
The scribe, with his ink-stained hands, hesitantly looked up from his work. An unnatural light, one that he had only read about in dusty wiki tomes, filled the room.
Light bulbs left behind in their ancient sockets for decoration, began to flicker and glow all through the halls of the monestary.
The scribe blew out the candles and resumed work, under the new standstill shadows. He knew nothing would be the same the more they re-harnessed this “elektrisitee.” Maybe there’s hope to restore the world after all.