I returned to the village. The water had subsided. Everything was gone. The people, the livestock, the houses; all gone.
I knew what was going to happen. I knew that the skies were going to open. I knew that the land would be inundated. But when I tried to tell them, they drove me away. Called me a heretic, a madman, a prophet of doom.
I had come to save them. I had come to warn them, but they didn’t want to hear. They couldn’t listen. And in the end they made me go.
Now this is the only sign.
Created for friday fictioneers. 100 words based on this picture: