When elephants fight, it’s the grass that suffers

It began with a subtle change in the air; a vibration. Not like a summer breeze, nor a winter wind. More like the night air disturbed by butterfly wings. But with something more. As if the air had received a small shock. Followed by another. And another. But no one took notice since the change was so infinitesimal as to be nonexistent.

Until it wasn’t.

Seven-year old Jake Johnson was the first to notice the effects of the atmospheric oddities, though he didn’t realize it. He just thought little Danny Martin had the cooties. Little Danny, in tears, ran home to his mother.

“Mama, look,” he said, crying, pointing to his arm.

“What’d you do, sweetheart?” she asked, thinking he must have fallen.

“Nothing, Mama. I was playing with Jake and then he pointed at me and started laughing, saying I had the cooties. I said no I didn’t and went to punch him, but he jumped back, laughing and told me not to touch him ’cause he didn’t want cooties, too.”

“Did you fall down?” Mrs. Martin asked, taking out the alcohol and some cotton balls.

“No, Mama. I was just playing and then Jake pointed and I saw the skin was peeling and then I felt the pain I didn’t notice while I was playing and then I came inside and…”

“Okay, baby. Let Mama clean it for you.” But as Mrs. Martin reached out to wipe little Danny’s arm, the skin began to disintegrate. “Merciful heaven! What in the world…”

“Mama!” little Danny screamed in agony.

Mrs. Martin watched helplessly as her little Danny’s skin ruptured, bled, peeled, melted away leaving him a crumpled, molten mass of human tissue. Simultaneously, the air around her was pierced with the screams of tortured anguish as every citizen of her town suffered the consequences of an event that had nothing to do with them, yet affected every living being on the planet.

Mrs. Martin watched her son die before she too became a footnote to a history none would live to write…or read.