Flash Fiction

The sun shone brilliantly yet the air was bitter. He strode abstractedly towards the burnt ruins of the house. The sun glinted infrequently from the broken shards of the broken window panes.

The low chanting from inside the ruin focused his attention. As he entered through the shattered door the chanting ceased immediately. In a low voice he said. "Lo, I am come."

In unison massed voices chorused. "Lo!"

He paused fractionally. Then bellowed. "We are the revolution."

"We are." They echoed.

Lethal weapons were produced. The mob arose. A Cloud blocked the light from the sun.