Hurricane

The cottage windows burst inward. This wasn't a storm, it was war. Fragments of jasmine whirled across the room, mingled with the rain of file cards.

Newt and Anathema clung to one another in the space between the overturned table and the wall.

"Go on," muttered Newt. "Tell me Agnes predicted this."

"She did say he bringeth the storm," said Anathema.

"This is a bloody hurricane. Did she say what's supposed to happen next?”

***

Good Omens - Saturday